


Everything But A Door

by Revasnaslan



Series: Where One Fell Verse [2]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Abusive Relationships, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Background Horde Prime/Shadow Weaver, Codependency, Emotional Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gaslighting, Gen, Mind Control, Non-Canon Prime Characterization, Possessive Behavior, Prime and Hordak as Blood Brothers, Slow Burn, Tangled (2010) References, Unreliable Narrator, internalized ableism, past parental death, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:13:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 61,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revasnaslan/pseuds/Revasnaslan
Summary: Prince Hec-Tor Kur had never known the world outside of his older brother’s ship, nor had he ever been out from under the ever-watchful gaze of his Minders. He understood why, of course. His brother had always insisted that the greater universe was disorderly and chaotic, that it was far too dangerous for him to go there when he had always been of such… delicate condition.It had made for a very lonely childhood, but for much of his life, Hec-Tor had been content enough to listen. After all, he had the sanctum that his brother so graciously gifted him, he had near limitless access to the Archives aboard the ship, and his brother almost always returned from his campaigns with a new book for Hec-Tor to read or a piece of tech for him to dissect. He had plenty of ways to occupy his time, even if he sometimes found himself staring out longingly at the stars.And then, a seemingly vanished planet reappeared out of the blue, and his entire worldview is thrown into question.
Relationships: Entrapta/Hordak (She-Ra), Hordak & Horde Prime (She-Ra)
Series: Where One Fell Verse [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679779
Comments: 175
Kudos: 71





	1. The Vanishing Planet

**Author's Note:**

> i should probably also preface this by stating i have done like net-zero research into other canons outside of using prime and hordak’s given names and operating under the assumption that ‘first ones’ are actually called eternians. any perceived overlap is probably coincidental and an accident on my part. 
> 
> the worldbuilding for this verse builds upon what was already established in the previous fic in the series. i’d highly advise reading where one fell prior to reading this fic, just for context’s sake (particularly around the relationship between the bat boys), especially since this fic doesn’t follow canon hardly at all, i’ve been writing this au since nov 2019, and i loathe S5’s existence with every fiber of my being, so it’s never going to. if you’re here for canon compliance, it is not the fic for you.
> 
> i can however, offer you brother angst. i’ve got one job in this fandom apparently, and i intend to deliver.
> 
> recently, a friend of mine also drew up a design of hec-tor’s casual wear, which you can find [here](https://revasnaslan.tumblr.com/post/632773431065280512) if you’re interested in that!

All was quiet aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ , and the only sound to be heard was the soft footfalls of the Imperial Prince.

Hec-Tor darted around the corner, nearly slipping in his haste to get to his destination. A few of the papers he had clutched haphazardly in his arms went flying from his grasp as he nearly dropped the entire stack right there in the middle of the hallway. His ears flicked irritably against the sides of his head as he quickly collected the papers he noticed. Once he was sure he had all of them, he continued on his way.

The hallway around him was bathed in starlight, leaving the dark polished marble floors glittering. As he passed by a large window, Hec-Tor paused in his stride, and his ears perked, shifting forward in interest as he looked out over the stars. While he didn’t know exactly which sector the ship was currently in, he could still pick out a few constellations that he recognized. Hec-Tor had always had a fascination with the stars, even when he had been nothing more than a small pup. While he had never been allowed to truly explore the stars on his own, he had read numerous studies on the subject, sinking his teeth into whatever articles he could find from the Archives aboard the ship…

… and he knew better than to ask to leave anyway.

As he took a step closer to the window, Hec-Tor carefully shifted the stack of papers into one arm, and then reached out to begin carefully tracing the proverbial lines that existed between the stars.  _ Aeternum _ was the first one that he found as he followed the ancient patterns that had been laid out thousands of years ago by the people of the nearest system. There were a number of sectors that could see  _ Aeternum _ , making it more difficult to figure out exactly where they were, so Hec-Tor began looking for another constellation he might have recognized. 

He was so entranced that he didn’t even notice someone was approaching him until he felt a taloned hand against the space between his shoulder blades, and he let out a startled chirp and nearly threw his papers to the side in surprise. However, when he looked over his shoulder, he found that it was just his Minder, Caduceus, and he looked nearly as startled as Hec-Tor.

“… you dropped this,” Caduceus said as he held out a piece of paper that Hec-Tor had missed earlier.

“What is it?” Hec-Tor asked, turning his attention back to the stars.

“Uh… cost-benefit analysis?”

Hec-Tor reached behind himself blindly for the paper, not wanting to look away from the stars, and Caduceus handed it over to him without another word.

“Do you know what sector we’re in, Caduceus?” Hec-Tor asked as he carefully tucked the paper back into its rightful place.

Caduceus’s shoulder brushed against Hec-Tor’s as he stepped forward and peered through the glass. His ears gave a curious flutter against the sides of his head, and he reached up, lightly rubbing the mottled blue tip of his left ear as he thought. “I do not,” he admitted after a moment, before glancing down at Hec-Tor. “We were scheduled to stop here for layover… we should be making the jump to the Hera sector in a few hours.”

Hec-Tor grimaced. “What’s in the Hera sector? We were just there.”

“Their queen has been requesting a personal audience with Horde Prime. He finally saw fit to answer,” Caduceus said simply, and he didn’t elaborate.

Though Hec-Tor said nothing in response, he did hum softly in acknowledgment, just so that Caduceus didn’t think he was being ignored. Starlight streamed in through the window, but the hallway around them was still dimly lit enough that he could see their reflections in the glass as though it was a mirror. An uncomfortable chill ran up his spine as he was reminded—though not for the first time—that he and Caduceus shared the exact same face. Sharp cheekbones, strong jawline, elegant ears that tapered to delicate points at the end, large citrine green eyes… there were only two key differences. The first was that Caduceus was just a hair taller, because unlike Hec-Tor, he was actually  _ healthy _ and hadn’t had his growth stunted by whatever condition plagued Hec-Tor. 

The second was that mottling of blue along the very tip of his left ear, where his masking had never come in fully. Prime had once called it an ‘acceptable deviation’ and Hec-Tor hadn’t found the voice to correct him.

Though Hec-Tor had been quite young when he had realized what the Attendants were, for much of his childhood, he had assumed that they were clones of his brother, not… not of himself. By all accounts, it wasn’t even a difficult mistake to make. At a glance, he and Prime looked very similar to one another, at least in the face. Otherwise, they couldn’t have looked more different—Prime was tall and broad, Hec-Tor was short and lean—and Hec-Tor felt rather foolish for not noticing sooner based on that alone.

At times, he still struggled to look in the mirror and see his face as his own… the face that stared back at him was that of every Attendant or Minder who had ever taken care of him, before he could form full sentences even. But Prime had a reason for everything he did, even if he tended to neglect to share it with Hec-Tor… and so, Hec-Tor had tamped down his discomfort and tried to move on with his life.

Hec-Tor cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Do uh… do you know what the meeting Anillis canceled was about?” he asked, even though he knew better than to expect a clear answer—but at the moment, he didn’t particularly care either. 

Prime had decided to cancel a meeting so that they could have breakfast together. It was the first time that they would be having a meal together in nearly two weeks, despite Prime promising that he’d try to find time in schedule. Hec-Tor had tried not to be too disappointed when Prime had inevitably broken those promises, since he knew his brother was very busy, and the continued stability of the Empire was more important than his feelings on the matter.

That was where the papers came in.

Prime had been growing frustrated with his continued campaign against the people of Lepus, and Hec-Tor had remembered him saying that he was losing shock troopers faster than they could be produced on the assembly lines. So, Hec-Tor had taken it upon himself to improve upon the design  _ again _ so that the shock troopers would serve better in combat against the Lepus. He was going to singlehandedly save his brother’s campaign and then Prime would  _ have _ to let him help instead of keeping him cloistered away in the Creche like he was some kind of helpless pup.

“No,” Caduceus said simply, shaking his head. His ears gave an uncomfortable flick at the sides of his head. “And even if I  _ did _ , I would not be permitted to tell you, Hec-Tor. It is highly confidential, far above my clearance, or yours.”

Hec-Tor almost retorted that he should have had the second-highest clearance in the Empire—he was an Imperial Prince, the younger child of Horde Prime Ar-Tor the Valiant, Heir Apparent to the throne—but he decided against it and bit his tongue. As frustrating as it was, he knew that his brother had a very good reason for not giving him such a clearance. Knowledge would have put a target on his back, and if he didn’t know anything, nobody could seek to harm him.

After all, the universe beyond the walls of the  _ Velvet Glove _ was disorderly and chaotic, and that made it a very dangerous place for Hec-Tor to be, due to his condition. Even though it had mostly stabilized due to intensive medication and an assistive exoskeleton that was intended to support and hide away the weakened musculature in his arms, Hec-Tor knew better than to assume that meant there wouldn’t be blood in the water if anybody besides his brother and his Minder knew about it. His brother had plenty of enemies who wouldn’t hesitate to harm him, perhaps even outright kill him, if it meant getting to his brother.

Hec-Tor was…  _ safer _ here.

“Come, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said, offering Hec-Tor his arm. “Horde Prime will be growing impatient for your arrival by now.”

Settling his free hand in the crook of Caduceus’s elbow, Hec-Tor allowed himself to be led away. The two of them continued on through the pristine halls of the  _ Velvet Glove _ , leaving the window long behind them—and with it, the starlight that had been creeping in. Even though Caduceus has a slightly longer gait than Hec-Tor did, he slowed his walk so that Hec-Tor didn’t have to trot to keep up with him. While there were usually numerous Attendants flitting about the halls, this morning it was quiet, and there was not a soul wandering about besides himself and Caduceus.

As they neared the large doors that led into the dining room, however, Hec-Tor gave Caduceus’s arm a tug. He immediately halted, peering down at Hec-Tor as his ears flicked in confusion.

“Your hood,” Hec-Tor whispered, twitching his ears to make his point clear.

Caduceus’s eyes widened a fraction as he understood—he must have forgotten that he had his hood down at all, since Hec-Tor never made him wear it. Without a word, he pulled the hood of his robes up over his head, tucking his ears inside and hiding the mottled blue tip of the left one from view. Then, he took a deep breath, and his expression returned to one as near perfect neutrality as he stepped forward and placed his hand on the palm scanner beside the door. Hec-Tor clutched his papers closer to his chest as a fleeting sense of nervousness came over him, but he took a deep breath when the doors to the dining room opened and Caduceus led him through.

Although he was dressed more casually, implying he didn’t have any major meetings that morning, Prime was absorbed in paperwork—because of course he was. Even when he had finally decided to make time for them to have a meal together, he had still brought his work with him… but Hec-Tor took a deep breath, and reminded himself that the Empire wasn’t going to run itself. Prime was too important of a figure to simply _ stop  _ working—as Horde Prime it was his duty to keep everything orderly and under control—even if it meant spending time with Hec-Tor.

Hec-Tor just hoped that some of the tweaks he had made to the shock troopers could help alleviate some of his brother’s stress.

Prime only glanced up from his paperwork when the door to the dining room shut behind them. One of his ears twitched and he smiled at Hec-Tor. “Well,  _ finally _ !” he said. “I was worried your food was going to go cold. I do hope you’re hungry, I had the kitchens make your favorite.”

Although Hec-Tor was not especially hungry, he forced a smile anyway. Prime had a tendency to fret if he thought Hec-Tor was taking a turn for the worse, and there were a number of things he wanted to do today that did not involve being stuck in his room because his brother demanded that he get bed rest.

Caduceus pulled out Hec-Tor’s chair for him, just to the right of his brother’s seat at the head of the table, and then pushed it back in once Hec-Tor was seated. He departed without another word, disappearing through the doors that led to the kitchens on the far side of the room. Once he was gone, Hec-Tor carefully set the stack of papers he had brought along with him down atop the table.

Prime glanced at the papers with his two natural eyes, with the other two—one above and one below his right eye—remained pinned on Hec-Tor. His ears gave a confused twitch beneath his ear ornamentation as he rested his chin against the back of his hand. “… what is this?”

“You mentioned recently that the shock troopers have been having problems keeping up with the Lepus,” Hec-Tor said, as he quickly flipped through the sheets of paper, looking for the schematic he had drawn up of the new and improved design. When he finally managed to fish it out from amongst the other sheets of paper, he held it up for Prime to see. “In their current form, the shock troopers are too easily unbalance— _ which I had actually accounted for when I initially designed them _ —”

“Mumbling, Hec-Tor.”

The tips of Hec-Tor’s ears burned, but he merely frowned and continued his explanation. “Their center of gravity makes it difficult for them to counter Lepus insurgents when they get too close. So, I lowered their center of gravity, so they can’t be knocked over by a toddler—”

Prime sighed. “I thought I had made it clear that the design of the shock troopers did not need further tweaking—”

“But you said so yourself,” Hec-Tor retorted. “You’re losing shock troopers so quickly because the Lepus are too agile for them to keep up!”

Before Prime had a chance to respond, however, the door to the kitchens opened. Caduceus emerged first, carrying a glass of water in one hand, and Hec-Tor’s medication in the other. A single Attendant followed a couple of paces behind him, holding two plates, one of which appeared to be steaming. Caduceus waited to the side while the Attendant stepped forward, carefully placing the plates down on the table and allowing Hec-Tor to get a good look at them. One was a hearty egg-based dish that had been covered in a deep purple sauce—likely made from  _ polan _ , a fruit that had a sweet taste and was grown in his brother’s garden. The second was a rather large bowl of carefully cut up fruit. Only once the Attendant had stepped back did Caduceus move forward and set down Hec-Tor’s medication alongside the glass of water. And then Caduceus disappeared back into the kitchens.

“We shall continue this discussion after you’ve eaten,” Prime said, with a dismissive flick of his ears.

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to argue. He wanted to finish the discussion  _ now _ . He already had all of his charts and papers prepared, and he could have been done with his presentation in mere minutes if only his brother would  _ listen _ to him… but Prime was staring him down with a stern frown on his face.

And so, Hec-Tor decided better of it. He took his medication without complaint, even though it tasted ghastly, and then patiently waited as the Attendant who had emerged from the kitchens served some of the eggs and fruit onto his plate without saying a word. While he didn’t really have much of an appetite as he looked at the food on his place, he knew he was meant to take his medication with food. Otherwise, he could grow very ill, and then he definitely would be restricted to bed rest for the rest of the day.

“Hec-Tor, what did I just say?” Prime said, but though his voice was stern, there was a concerned crease to his brow. “You’ve been losing weight recently, little one…”

A twinge of guilt settled in the pit of Hec-Tor’s stomach—he didn’t like worrying his brother—so he took a deep breath and forced himself to begin eating. It was an absolute chore, and the eggs felt like tar when he tried to swallow them, but he managed. After the first bite, it was easier. Prime kept a close eye on him until he seemed satisfied that Hec-Tor would continue eating even when he looked away, and then he turned back to his paperwork.

Hec-Tor was left to pick at his food in silence.

The Attendant who had served his meal lingered nearby, although he didn’t say anything, nor did he move from his post. His gaze remained locked straight ahead, half-hidden in the shadow of his hood. It would have been easy to mistake him for a statue, and it was impossible to see his ears or discern their movements. That was enough to leave Hec-Tor uneasy… it was much more difficult to discern tone or feelings in speech without the accompanying ear movements.

But Hec-Tor also knew that he had nothing to fear from the Attendants. They would never harm him, and had been nothing but polite and kind towards him for as long as he could remember. He had even played with some of them in the throne room when he had been small enough that the top of his head had barely even reached his brother’s knee. He had no reason to think badly of them or assume the worst.

Hec-Tor considered his plate before he speared a slice of bireak onto his fork and popped it into his mouth. “… Anillis?” he asked tentatively, after he had swallowed.

“Yes, little one?” Prime asked, without looking at Hec-Tor. Most of his attention was still glued on the papers in front of him, but one of his ears had swiveled in Hec-Tor’s direction, indicating he was listening.

“Um… what is the serial number of the Attendant serving my meal?” Hec-Tor asked, tilting his head to the side.

Prime scoffed under his breath. “Does it matter?”

“Yes,” Hec-Tor said simply. Of course it did. “I want to thank him for his service and—”

This time, Prime sighed deeply, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers. “Oh, not this  _ again _ …”

Hec-Tor frowned. “He worked hard. Why shouldn’t I thank him for—”

“Attendants do not  _ require _ thanks, Hec-Tor,” Prime said, mirroring his frown as he finally looked away from his paperwork. “Nor do I believe they’d even  _ want _ it.”

Hec-Tor let out a frustrated hiss, his ears twitching irritably against the sides of his head. “But that isn’t fair!”

“ _ Life _ isn’t fair!” Prime spat back. “Now, stop behaving like a melodramatic pup and finish your—”

He cut off abruptly, and his gaze moved away from Hec-Tor. His ears twitched uneasily against the sides of his head, and his pupils had retracted to hair-thin slits. Seeing his brother shift into such high alert caused an easy feeling to twist in Hec-Tor’s gut, and his anger was immediately replaced by a growing sense of fear.

“Anil—”

“Shh…” Prime said, flicking his ears in warning as he slowly rose from his seat. His own unease was plain as he glanced around the room, and then he opened his mouth to reveal his bright green canines and tongue before breathing in deeply to scent the air. Rather than reacting calmly, however, his entire posture stiffened.

Then, Hec-Tor felt it.

Static danced along the exposed skin of his neck and throat, but when he attempted to scent the air as his brother had, the cloying stench of ozone hit the roof of his mouth. Hec-Tor gagged, and he quickly shoved his nasal ridge into the crook of his elbow in an attempt to keep from becoming overwhelmed.

“Anillis—” he managed to choke out.

And then, an alarm began blaring. Softly at first, as though it was rising from the lower sub-decks of the _ Velvet Glove _ , before reaching its crescendo in the Imperial Wing. Hec-Tor’s ears pinned back against the sides of his head as he flinched at the harshness of the sound echoing off of the walls, and his heart stuttered in his chest when he finally recognized the alarm for what it was.

The proximity alarm, which only sounded when something appeared suddenly, without warning, and refused to make contact with the  _ Velvet Glove _ .

“By the Light,” Prime said, his voice barely audible over the din of the alarms even though he had raised it.

The static in the air suddenly sharpened, leaving Hec-Tor no time to react before the braces around his arms suddenly locked up. He gave a sharp cry as the energy around them snapped, and a shock ran through his body along his augments. He collapsed to the floor beside his chair. His brother let out a similar shriek, and a moment later crashed to the floor at the head of the table, where he lay unmoving.

Then, the alarm shut off, and the dining room was plunged into pitch black darkness as the  _ Velvet Glove _ ’s power grid was knocked offline.

—

When Hec-Tor finally found the strength to lift his head, all he could hear was his own faint breathing—quick as his heart racing in his chest—and the blood roaring in his ears. The silence around him was deafening. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to push himself to his feet, but he found enough strength to sit up and look around the room. Shadows swam around him, clawing their way across the floor, and all he could make out were the faint outlines of chairs, the edge of the tabletop… it was dark enough that he couldn’t discern color at all.

Fear cloyed in his chest, and his ears perked and twitched as he listened. A nervous warbling chirp stuck itself in his throat. It was a sound he was far too old to be making, but in any other circumstance, it would have brought his brother running to defend him—Prime would have never let  _ anything _ happen to him.

His eyes caught a flicker of movement mere feet from him, followed by faint footsteps and the whisper of fabric across the tile. Before Hec-Tor thought better of it, he lashed out with his talons. Long fingers caught hold of his wrist before his talons met flesh, and Hec-Tor’s heart stuttered as fear left him frozen where he sat upon the floor. It was only when the shade drew close enough that he could make out their facial features, that Hec-Tor actually drew a breath.

Caduceus blinked slowly at him, his eyes glinting in the dark as the faintest traces of remaining light caught there with a pearly sheen. Without a word, he settled beside Hec-Tor on the floor, gathering Hec-Tor beneath his arm. Then, the emergency lights flipped on, casting a warm, red glow across the dining room. The backup generator—which powered the life support systems and the emergency lights in the event of a complete outage—must have finally come online. Hec-Tor allowed himself a moment to breathe, and sagged against Caduceus’s side.

At the head of the table, Prime let out a low groan as he seemed to finally regain consciousness himself. The next sound that left him was a  _ gutted _ chirp, one that Hec-Tor immediately felt the pull to respond to because Prime was trying to make sure  _ he _ was still alive and not lying dead on the floor. However, his voice had left him entirely.

“He’s over here, Horde Prime,” Caduceus said calmly, even though his ears were twitching uneasily.

Hec-Tor let out a shaky breath as he felt Caduceus press two fingers against the pulse point of his wrist. One of his ears twitched as he heard Prime scramble to his feet, and then the whisper of fabric as the train of Prime’s skirts dragged across the floor.

“He’s alright?” Prime pressed as he approached.

“His heart rate is steady,” Caduceus reported before releasing his hold on Hec-Tor’s wrist again. “And he is not showing any signs associated with a fainting spell.”

Prime, however, did not seem convinced. He crouched down in front of Hec-Tor and reached out, taking hold of his chin to give him a quick once over. Although his appearance was normally perfectly tailored and pristine, a few flocks of Prime’s snow white hair hung loose, brushing against his shoulder. It was a rarity to see him with his hair down. Three of the four cables that were woven into his hair had been ejected from their docks along his collar bones and now hung limp on either side of his neck. The glow of the emergency lights caught on the needles at their ends, and Hec-Tor quickly averted his eyes. If Prime noticed, however, he didn’t say so.

“Is that true, little one?” Prime asked, and all Hec-Tor could do was nod. It was only then that Prime gave a faint sigh of relief before smoothing his hair back into place again. The cables woven into his hair shifted—seemingly of their own accord—and slipped back into their docks along his collarbones with a faint  _ hiss _ .

Hec-Tor managed a shaky breath and shifted his focus to how feeling was beginning to return to his arms. While his armor had locked up during the initial surge, now it seemed that the braces around his forearms—which were meant to keep his hand tremors to a minimum—had finally righted themselves. As he flexed his fingers, testing his own limits, his mind began to wander.

Whatever had caused that surge did not agree with Horde tech, of that Hec-Tor was certain. It felt like an odd conclusion to come to, as Horde tech was amongst the most advanced in the universe. Certainly, it was the most advanced that Hec-Tor had ever had the pleasure of dissecting. The Empire had been built largely on the combined efforts of several generations of scientists improving on the groundwork lead out by their predecessors, and in recent years, Hec-Tor’s own designs had taken precedence. He had not designed the  _ Velvet Glove _ , of course—his brother’s ship had been commissioned when he was an infant—but he knew enough about the overall design to know that the source of the surge had been powerful, if it had knocked the  _ Velvet Glove  _ offline like this…

“—no reports of intruders on the lower levels, your Grace…” Caduceus was saying. “Half of the Attendants are still recovering from the energy surge, and the power grid was also knocked offline.”

“ _ Someone _ must be attempting to board,” Prime insisted, his voice going shrill. The glow of the emergency lights cast sharp shadows across his features, accentuating his deep frown. “Why else would a ship not make contact with the  _ Velvet Glove _ unless they intended to storm it?”

Caduceus’s hand twitched as though he was going to rub the mottled tip of his ear before he managed to catch himself. “… shall I return Prince Hec-Tor to the—”

“No,  _ I _ shall accompany him,” Prime said with a certain sharpness underlying his tone as he rose back to his feet before helping Hec-Tor back to his. Prime took hold of Hec-Tor’s wrist without another word, leading him along, and Hec-Tor was forced to trot to keep up with his brother’s longer gait.

“… can’t I stay with you until the power comes back?” Hec-Tor asked. 

“It is  _ safe _ in the Creche, Hec-Tor,” Prime insisted, without looking back at him. “I cannot bear the thought of you getting hurt because I allowed you to waltz around the  _ Velvet Glove _ when it was without power and a potential intruder was on the loose!”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to argue—at the very least, he could walk back to the Creche under his own power, if Prime was so insistent on him returning there. He didn’t need his brother to walk him there as though he was a toddler who would somehow become lost on a ship he had never been allowed to leave.

“I do not have the patience to argue with you right now, Hec-Tor,” Prime cut in, as though he knew what Hec-Tor was going to say. “Now, come along. The sooner we get you to the Creche, the sooner I know you are  _ safe. _ ”

There was a flicker of movement in Hec-Tor’s peripheral vision—the flash of black that he immediately recognized as the Horde’s Wings—as an Attendant fell in step beside him on his left. No, not an Attendant. Caduceus. There was a hint of resignation on his features as he stared straight ahead, while trying to keep pace with Prime, despite being barely taller than Hec-Tor was himself. With his hood up, and the mottled tip of his ear hidden from view, he was indistinguishable at a glance from the Attendants that often roamed the halls.

And then, ahead of them, two Attendants seemed to melt out of the shadows. They stepped off to the side, bowing deeply at the waist as they allowed Prime and Hec-Tor to pass… they immediately fell in line without prompting from his brother once he and Prime had made their way past. One Attendant fell back to bring up the rear of the convoy, while the other took position opposite of Caduceus, on Hec-Tor’s right side. Hec-Tor hadn’t even noticed his brother ask for the closest available Attendants to accompany them back to the Creche.

Hec-Tor turned his gaze back to his brother, his ears twitching uneasily. “Where will you be going, then?”

“To oversee the Attendants while they—”

As they made their way past one of the observation windows that looked out onto the stars, Prime cut off abruptly. He also stopped walking so suddenly that Hec-Tor didn’t have to stop and he ended bumping right into his brother’s shoulder. Hec-Tor’s ears flicked in confusion as he glanced up at his brother, but Prime didn’t meet his gaze. He was staring out the window, seemingly entranced. When Hec-Tor followed his brother’s gaze, his breath immediately left him.

There was a planet there.

It stood out against the cosmos like some sort of gemstone. Pinks, blues, and greens mixed together across the entirety of its surface, broken up only by a heavy layer of cloud cover, and it appeared to have around a dozen satellites orbiting it. As Hec-Tor stared at the planet, his brow furrowing in confusion… this was the very window that he and Caduceus had passed by only a mere hour before, but at the time, there had been nothing there besides the cosmos, stretching out before them. Planets didn’t just…  _ appear _ out of nowhere like that.

“That… was not there before,” Hec-Tor said as he edged forward, lingering at Prime’s shoulder.

Prime sighed, and Hec-Tor could almost hear his eye roll. “Ever the master of wit, aren’t we, Hec-Tor?”

The tips of Hec-Tor’s ears flushed a deep shade of blue. “Well—well, it  _ wasn’t _ !”

“Yes, I understand that,” Prime said mildly as he took a half-step closer to the window and tucked his hands behind his back. Tilting his head to the side, his ears shifted forward in the makings of interest, twitching curiously at the tips beneath his ear ornamentation.

Hec-Tor peered at the planet again as his own ears perked. “… where do you think it came from?”

“Do you think I would be standing here if I knew?” Prime asked, tilting his head to the side just so as he gazed out at the unknown planet.

Hec-Tor rolled his eyes. “And here I thought you knew everything.”

Prime shot him a flat look over his shoulder. “Mind your tone, would you?” he said, before his ears gave a twitch of annoyance. “This is not a game, and it does not sit well with me that  _ you _ are so close to what could now be considered an expansion edge while we are without power!”

Although Hec-Tor opened his mouth to continue arguing, he thought better of it as he stared at his brother. His gaze dropped to the floor as the dusting of blue at the tips of his spread down the length of them and onto his cheeks. Despite what his brother thought, Hec-Tor was not so naive that he didn’t grasp the severity of the situation. Even when the Velvet Glove was at peak operation, Prime never dared to take Hec-Tor anywhere near the Expansion Edge unless peace negotiations were already well underway. He had always insisted it was too  _ dangerous _ for Hec-Tor to be there.

It wasn’t like Hec-Tor was ignorant to why his brother acted that way either… after all, the Expansion Edge had taken their  _ ami _ from them before Hec-Tor was even born, and there hadn’t even been a body to recover in the aftermath.

“It doesn’t make any sense…” Prime was muttering to himself. “The  _ Praesidium _ Sector doesn’t have any planets in it, much less one that is capable of appearing out of thin air, and yet—”

The  _ Praesidium _ Sector? 

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a curious twitch. Ignoring his brother’s continued mutterings, Hec-Tor stepped forward and peered out from around his brother’s shoulder to get a second look at the planet.

“… Anillis,” Hec-Tor spoke up.

“Hec-Tor, not now,” Prime said dismissively, and his gaze did not stray from the mysterious planet. He was frowning at it as though it had personally offended him in some way.

“But… that’s the Vanishing Planet,” Hec-Tor said tentatively.

Prime pinched his nasal ridge between his fingers and let out a sharp sigh through his nose. “Hec-Tor…” he said with forced patience as though he was speaking to a pup. “We have discussed this. The Vanishing Planet is nothing but a  _ story _ —”

“But the coordinates match!” Hec-Tor insisted as he strode past his brother. He gestured to the planet on the other side of the glass. “I’ve looked through  _ numerous _ ancient star charts, and every single one of them pointed to a celestial body in this sector… but  _ none _ of the modern ones show the same!”

Prime scoffed in the back of his throat. “ _ So _ ? Some of the primitives in nearby sectors must have made a mistake,” he said with a dismissive flick of his ears, but Hec-Tor barely heard him.

Before he could stop himself, Hec-Tor let out an excited chirp and started rambling. “Anillis, they must be very technologically advanced, perhaps some of the most advanced beings we’ve ever come across. How else could they have vanished for well over a thousand years without leaving behind so much as a trace?!”

Behind him, his brother let out an exasperated sigh. “Hec-Tor…”

Hec-Tor hardly even noticed his brother now, too focused on his Vanishing Planet. His thoughts were bouncing between points rapidly, rarely lingering on a single idea for more than a moment as he tried to piece together a theory for why one of his favorite stories was suddenly a reality. “Cloaking technology would be the obvious choice, of course, but how would they even  _ power _ a cloaking device that large? The sheer amount of energy required to cloak an entire planet would be, well, astronomical. And then you would have to worry about  _ hiding _ the energy signature it gives off from outsiders so that they would be unable to track you—”

“ _ Hec-Tor _ , that’s enough,” Prime snapped, lightly massaging his temples. “Your technobabble is giving me a headache.”

Immediately, Hec-Tor bit his tongue and his gaze fell to the floor again. The tips of his ears burned an even deeper shade of blue as he scowled in embarrassment.

Prime stepped around him, peering through the window again as he tapped the side of his talon guard against his chin. “… Hec-Tor, I want you to stay here with your Minder, while I go and greet the natives.”

One of Hec-Tor’s ears gave a curious flick as he glanced up at his brother again. He was, once again, reminded of how he had never actually been permitted to leave the safety of the Velvet Glove before. In the back of his mind, his brother’s words echoed— _ dangerous, chaotic, unpredictable _ —but Hec-Tor knew that as long as Prime was with him, he would be safe and protected. Prime had never let any harm come to him…

“… Anillis?” Hec-Tor spoke up tentatively. “Can’t I—”

Prime’s shoulders stiffened before he glanced back at Hec-Tor. “What did I just say?”

Although Hec-Tor opened his mouth to argue—he would have been  _ safe _ if he was with his brother—he found that his fight left him entirely the longer he stared at his brother. Finally, he sighed, and let his gaze fall to the floor again, only managing a tiny nod to show he understood.

“Oh, come now, Hec-Tor… it is not my intention to be cruel, but this is for your  _ safety _ ,” Prime stressed as he reached out to gently cradle Hec-Tor’s cheek in his hand, and after a moment, Hec-Tor leaned into the touch, despite it doing little to improve his dour mood. “If I brought you along, and the natives ended up being hostile, I would have only been putting you into unnecessary danger. And what kind of brother would that make me? You’re still—”

Hec-Tor knew what his brother was going to say, even if Prime hadn’t ended up saying it. He was going to bring up Hec-Tor’s myriad of health problems, and how, despite his health being relatively stable now, he had never been cured of any of them…

With a sigh, Hec-Tor glanced back up at his brother. “…can’t you bring back a sample of their tech, at least?” he asked, and he forced a smile when Prime seemed hesitant. “I—I believe that would be just as good as leaving the ship and accompanying you, that’s all.”

Prime sighed before he mirrored Hec-Tor’s smile before he shifted his and to lightly begin threading his talons through the crest of snow white hair atop Hec-Tor’s head. “If that is what you want, then I shall see to it,” he said—and this was a promise that Hec-Tor knew he’d actually keep.

Without another word, Prime’s gaze shifted to where Caduceus and the two Attendants had been lingering, awaiting orders. “001-11992, keep an eye on Hec-Tor until I return. He is not to leave the Imperial Wing.”

Caduceus dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Of course, Horde Prime.”

Then, he stepped forward and offered Hec-Tor his arm. Reluctantly, Hec-Tor took it, slipping his hand into the crook of Caduceus’s elbow. He cast one last look over his shoulder at his brother, but Prime’s focus had already shifted back to the Vanishing Planet, and Hec-Tor doubted that it’d waver anytime soon.

While he didn’t object to Caduceus accompanying him back to the Creche, the other two Attendants followed as well. They moved almost silently across the floor, shadowing Hec-Tor and Caduceus the entire walk back to the Creche—and so, Hec-Tor and Caduceus were silent, where normally they might have had pleasant conversation. When they finally reached the door of the Creche, however, the Attendants lingered.

“We can aid in protecting Prince Hec-Tor—” one spoke up.

“That will not be necessary,” Caduceus said mildly, without looking at them. “As one of Horde Prime’s most trusted, I do not require help to fulfill my purpose.”

Caduceus often said that when he wanted other Attendants to leave them be—and it worked, more often than not. Just as it worked now. The Attendants standing opposite of them hesitated for a moment, and shared a short glance, before they both dipped their heads in acknowledgment—at Hec-Tor, specifically, rather Caduceus, who had actually been the one to address them. And then, they sunk back into the shadows that yawned at the end of the hallway.

The main door to the Creche finally slid shut behind them, plunging them into near total darkness. Hec-Tor blinked a couple of times, allowing his eyes to adjust to yet another shift in ambient light. Normally, even when the lights were dimmed, the floor-to-ceiling windows opposite the door were unobstructed, looking out onto the cosmos. Now, though, they were covered by protective shielding that would have come down when the proximity alarm was tripped—a necessary safety precaution, in the event the hull of the ship sustained structural damage. The Creche was the most well fortified section of the  _ Velvet Glove _ .

One of Hec-Tor’s ears twitched as he heard Caduceus move across the room. When he turned his head to look, he could just barely pick out the outline of his Minder’s broad shoulders, the whites in his uniform cast in a deep shade of red from the overhead emergency lights. He wordlessly made his way over to a panel that sat beside the windows, slipping his hood down as he went.

“Just a moment, Hec-Tor,” he said easily as he rested his hand against the panel and it began scanning his palm. “I’ll have the windows open and then you can stargaze if you wish.”

“I’d _ prefer _ to go to my sanctum,” Hec-Tor said as he made his way over to the sectional in the center of the room. There, he plopped down, curling up against the arm rest and tucking his legs beneath himself. With a frown, he began picking at the hem of one of his sleeves. He had no way of knowing if the power cutting out had messed up any of the tests he had been running unless he checked. He’d have to start all over again if that was the case.

“What you’d  _ prefer _ is irrelevant right now,” Caduceus said simply. “Horde Prime said—”

“Anillis said that I had to stay in the Imperial Wing,” Hec-Tor said with a dismissive flick of his ears. “He didn’t technically reiterate that I had to return to the Creche.”

“It was implied,” Caduceus retorted as the mottled tip of his ear twitched in poorly concealed irritation. Then, he let out a sigh and his gaze softened considerably as he looked over his shoulder at Hec-Tor. “And I will not disobey direct orders on a technicality,” he said, and though his voice was stiff there was an apologetic undertone there as well. Then, he averted his gaze to the floor. “Horde Prime wishes for you to stay in the Creche, my Prince… where you will be safe and well cared for.”

—

The  _ Velvet Glove _ remained in low-power mode until around midday, when the lights suddenly flared back to life while Hec-Tor had been eating his lunch. Even in spite of that, however, Hec-Tor had been kept cloistered away in the Creche, and he had heard no word from his brother. He had tried to distract himself by tinkering with one of the braces he wore on his arms, ensuring that the energy surge hadn’t fried a circuit that might have impeded his day-to-day functioning, but even with that he had found himself listless. While he had been hoping that Prime would return sooner, rather than later, it seemed that introducing himself to the natives of the Vanishing Planet was not something that could be done in an hour. 

Hec-Tor just hoped that nothing bad happened to Prime while he was out there.

“You are going to wear down the rug if you keep pacing like that, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said mildly, without looking up from his stitching. One of Hec-Tor’s dresses was laid out across his lap as he attempted to mend a side-seam that Hec-Tor had managed to rip a few days ago. A test he had been performing on the new shock trooper design had caused a…  _ mild _ explosion, resulting in both him and Caduceus diving for cover.

“It is not as though I can help it, Caduceus,” Hec-Tor retorted as he continued pacing back and forth, fiddling with the skin-tight sleeve of his nightgown as he went. When he turned again, he peered at the timepiece on the wall, and his talons dug into the fabric of his sleeve. It was getting rather late, and Prime still not had returned.

Caduceus motioned to the bed with his ears. “Why don’t you read more of your book?” he suggested. “It might help take your mind off of your brother…”

The book in question was from Hec-Tor’s rather expansive selection of fiction novels that he had been collecting for years. This one in particular had come from some far off system that he couldn’t remember the name of, but it had been translated into their native tongue, so Hec-Tor had been able to read it without issue. While normally, he could very easily lose himself amongst the pages of his favorite books, he couldn’t find it himself to do that right now.

“It won’t,” Hec-Tor said as he set to pacing again.

Caduceus gave a faint sigh. “You do not need to worry about your brother, Hec-Tor… he is the Horde Prime, and he is more than capable of fending off those who might wish him harm.”

Hec-Tor’s frown deepened. “But if I had gone with him—”

That was when Caduceus decided to finally look up, peering at Hec-Tor with a stern crease to his brow. “And how exactly do you imagine you would have been able to help him if something went awry?” he questioned. “You do not have combat training, Hec-Tor.”

“Not for lack of wanting to learn,” Hec-Tor retorted.

“You know as well I do that I am forbidden from teaching you,” Caduceus reminded him. “Horde Prime has deemed it unnecessary—”

“—as you are with me at all times,” Hec-Tor finished for him. “And what if something ever happened to you? Does he just expect me to—to  _ sit there _ ?”

“Hec-Tor, I am immune to over three hundred of the most commonly available poisons from across the Empire,” Caduceus said, and his tone suggested he was unconcerned about the possibility. “Even if, by some magic, someone  _ did _ manage to get past me, there are dozens of Attendants in this section of the Imperial Wing alone. You would be—”

He cut off abruptly, his eyes widening a fraction as he glanced towards the door to Hec-Tor’s room. His ears eased forward, twitching nervously at the tips as he listened. A moment later, the door to Hec-Tor’s room slid open and Prime stepped through, still dressed in the regalia he must have worn while meeting with the natives of the Vanishing Planet—a flowing dress of pure white, extravagant jewelry made of white gold, and a diadem that was meant to emulate the sun’s rays sat at the crown of his head. 

“Oh, good, you’re still awake,” he said, and though his head was still held high, there was a clear tiredness to his voice.

Hec-Tor quickly darted over into his brother’s arms, and he nudged the crown of his head against his brother’s jaw, letting out a soft, trilling chirp. Prime mimicked him a moment later, seeming amused.

“Oh, come now, Hec-Tor,” Prime teased as he hugged Hec-Tor that much tighter, before releasing him and allowing Hec-Tor to take a step back. “I was only gone for a couple of hours. There was no reason to worry about me.”

“But if they were as technologically advanced as I assumed—” Hec-Tor began, his ears giving a nervous flutter.

“You’ll be amazed to find that they  _ weren’t _ ,” Prime said, although he seemed more perplexed by that than pleased.

Hec-Tor peered up at his brother in confusion. “What? How—How is that possible?” he asked. “They—They appeared out of nowhere. Surely it was… was cloaking technology or something similar?”

Prime shook his head. “It is unlike anything I have ever seen,” he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his talon guard against his chin. His ears twitched in thought. “They claim it is related to some… weapon at the core of their planet.”

Hec-Tor scoffed and plopped back down onto the edge of his bed. “A  _ weapon _ ?” he repeated, unconvinced.

“Oh, yes, their ‘tech expert’ was very insistent on her terminology,” Prime said, rolling his eyes before he dug a small trinket out of the folds of his skirts and tossed it over to Hec-Tor.

Without thinking, Hec-Tor caught it, and when he opened his hand, he was surprised to find a small crystal of some kind resting in his palm. It was bright red in coloration, with odd engraving etched into its surface. He tilted his head to the side, before he looked at Prime in confusion.

“That, little one, is their technology,” Prime said, although he didn’t sound particularly impressed. “Their ‘tech expert’ called it a crystal something or other… she was talking too fast for me to understand what she was saying.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it…” Hec-Tor said, frowning at the crystal. “I could run tests on it, though… these lines here might be information wells or—”

“Hec-Tor, if you’re going to start rambling again, please do so in plain Pyrian,” Prime said tiredly. “I am much too tired to follow your techno-babble tonight.”

“It could be a  _ storage device _ ,” Hec-Tor said, more plainly, enunciating each syllable clearly. “I could  _ hack it _ to find  _ information _ .”

Prime shot him a look, unamused. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”

One of Hec-Tor’s ears gave an innocent twitch before he looked back at the crystal.

Prime sighed and shook his head. “I also met with their leadership and brought them back to the ship with me, alongside their ‘tech expert’—”

“They had multiple leaders then?” Hec-Tor asked as he carefully flipped the crystal over to look at the other side of it. He was only half-listening to what Prime was saying now.

“It would seem that the Etherians—” That must have been the name of the natives then. “—were involved in a planet-wide civil war,” Prime explained. “However, I only brought back the two most important members of their leadership. Queen Glimmer of Bright Moon and Lady Shadow Weaver of Mystacor, alongside a companion of their choosing.”

“… and the ‘tech expert’?” Hec-Tor pressed, even though he had been trying not to focus on that specifically.

Prime’s eyes flashed, and the tips of his ears twitched in barely hidden annoyance. “Princess Entrapta of Dryl,” he said stiffly, speaking as though her name alone was acidic and threatening to burn him. “Supposedly, she is the leading expert on this… weapon that they have. I felt it was pertinent to include her, as her knowledge could be invaluable to using it.”

Hec-Tor almost mentioned the story of the Vanishing Planet again, before biting his tongue. However, there  _ had _ been mention of the planet’s magical power in the tale… as he had grown older, he had come to assume that the magic had been added to the story since it was a tale for children, that the magic didn’t actually exist. But it seemed the so-called ‘magic’ was actually a weapon of some kind? Had it been connected to the planet’s disappearance? 

He was so curious about where the planet had gone and how it had gotten there in the first place. He would have liked to ask this Princess Entrapta questions. But he could already tell that Prime wasn’t going to let her anywhere near Hec-Tor, just based on how Prime was speaking of her. Whatever she had done, it had displeased his brother greatly, and there would be no coming back from that.

“I take it that I won’t be permitted to meet with them,” Hec-Tor said.

To his surprise, Prime actually seemed to mull over the suggestion, even if there was still hesitance in his expression.

“Prince Hec-Tor has been feeling much better recently, your Grace,” Caduceus spoke up suddenly, from where he still sat with a needle and thread in hand. Hec-Tor had forgotten he was even sitting there. However, Caduceus was not looking at him. His gaze was instead trained upon Prime.

“He has been losing weight,” Prime retorted, and for the moment, Hec-Tor was forgotten. They continued speaking as though he wasn’t sitting right there.

“His latest blood panel came back normal,” Caduceus said, and though it was a retort, it didn’t sound accusatory or condescending. “It would do him some good to stretch his legs… he has been spending more and more time in his sanc—his—his lab since you have been rather busy with the Lepus campaign. I fear that he is not getting enough time away from it. You know how single minded he gets when he comes up with another project.”

Hec-Tor glanced at Caduceus with a frown, feeling the slightest twinge of betrayal—why was he bringing Prime’s attention to how much time Hec-Tor had been spending hidden away in his sanctum? But then, he noticed the flash of something in Caduceus’s eye, and he immediately understood. When he looked back at his brother, Prime seemed to seriously be considering what Caduceus had just told him.

“… if he has something to wear that is fit for presentation in the throne room, he can accompany me in the morning,” Prime finally said.

Without another word, Caduceus set aside the dress that he had been mending and rose from his seat. He crossed the room to Hec-Tor’s rather expansive closet and began carding through the clothing hidden within. Hec-Tor had a couple of nicer dresses for occasions such as thing, though he rarely got to actually wear them. Prime followed a couple of paces after him, ready to inspect any of the garments and make sure they were actually acceptable.

And he allowed himself a faint smile as he turned his attention back to the crystal that still sat in his palm. He held it up to the light, trying to get a better look at the etchings, only for his expression to drop when the light wavered in brightness. His ears flicked uneasily, but he seemed to be the only one who had noticed it happening, and he looked down at the crystal, wondering just what he was holding in his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: shade from the vents
> 
> this au basically came from me asking the question of “but what if prime and hordak were blood-related brothers, and what if hordak was actually the most precious thing in the universe to prime?” and then taking that to its logical extreme. it’s not a good logical extreme by any means, but it’s a logical one (:
> 
> strap in, folks, this is going to be a ride *smacks prime* cause this bad boy could fit _so many_ maladaptive coping mechanisms in him


	2. Shade in the Vents

The next morning was downright chaotic, but Hec-Tor was too excited to notice. He hadn’t been allowed to meet with the leaders of a newly acquired system—in the flesh—since he was a toddler. The top of his head hadn’t even reached Prime’s knee, at the time. When he was that little, his brother had taken him everywhere with him aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ . He had toddled around after Prime like a little pint-sized shadow. Of course, as he had gotten older, Prime had become more and more concerned for his safety, and after one particularly egregious incident involving thinly veiled threats against Hec-Tor, Prime had come to the conclusion that Hec-Tor’s presence in the throne room was dangerous.

Hec-Tor found himself wondering what the Etherians had done that made Prime willing to allow him to be there. Prime must not have found them particularly threatening if he was willing to break one of his own cardinal rules.

However, he hadn’t known a moment of peace long enough to actually think since he had been woken up that morning. Not only had he been woken up earlier than normal, but he had also been immediately herded into the bathroom where Caduceus had already drawn his bath, insisting that he needed to be  _ presentable _ . Hec-Tor had found that rather silly, because for once, he wasn’t actually covered in grease or oil from one of his projects, but he hadn’t argued with his Minder.

“I hate this dress…” Hec-Tor muttered under his breath—which was only half-true. 

It was a  _ lovely _ dress, strictly from an aesthetic perspective. The main body was made of pure white silk that seemed to shimmer in the dim light of his bedroom, and there were slits running up either side, stopping just short of his hips, that showed the dark fabric covering his legs. The fabric was tight against his skin. He was certain his brother would be wearing one to match, although the cuts would be radically different. Where Prime’s formal wear—and his everyday wear—featured elaborate cut outs along his chest, often plunging down near to his waist, Hec-Tor’s showed far less skin, only dipping low enough to allow for a flash of his throat and collar bones.

“I know,” Caduceus said as he circled Hec-Tor, checking to make sure the fit was right. “But it was the dress that Horde Prime insisted upon. Something about it being the latest fashion.”

Hec-Tor nearly rolled his eyes, but managed to settle for flicking his ears in irritation instead. As much as he loved his brother, he wished that for once, he would have been allowed to pick his own wardrobe.

Caduceus stepped away from him, seeming satisfied with how the skirts of the dress were falling. “We’ll add the cape after you’ve eaten.”

The cape was something that Hec-Tor didn’t actually mind as much. Several of the dresses he had designed for himself over the years had featured them. It was one concession that Prime had always been willing to make when sending designs off to their seamstress—it was one argument between the two of them that Hec-Tor had almost universally won. Capes had always had a way of making Hec-Tor feel far larger than he actually was… more confident… more imposing…

He was a full head shorter than Prime was, and when the two of them stood side-by-side, it often felt like he was only half as wide in the shoulders. People could easily have mistaken him for an adolescent when he stood beside his brother. He had never filled out properly on account of his condition, and the only tell that he was actually an  _ adult _ was that his masking had come in fully. 

But if a cape had proper padding, he appeared broader. If he held his head higher, he appeared taller.

… capes also hid his back from view. While people tended to miss the port he had on either side of his ribs, assuming they were a mere fashion statement, the ports on his back were far more prominent. They made it clear that  _ something _ was plugged into him, and unlike the ports his brother had, Hec-Tor’s were not merely cosmetic. Without his supportive armor, moving could often become painful, and his hands would shake so badly that he could barely hold anything. Much less defend himself. His weakest points were on his back, where his armor plugged directly into his central nervous system, and he did not enjoy the thought of them being made into targets just because he had them on display.

And he wasn’t his brother, who was so confident that he could strut around with both his chest and back exposed, just begging for someone to make an attempt on his life, and to see where that got them.

“How—How do I look?” Hec-Tor asked as Caduceus carefully slipped his ears clasps on. Today’s pair was the most ostentatious that he owned—shells of white gold, with the eight-pointed star of the Eternal Light dangling near his lobes, alongside other hair-tin chains inlaid with precious gemstones.

For a moment, Caduceus said nothing as he circled Hec-Tor, giving him a last once-over and then adjusting his appearance as needed. Tweaking any lingering imperfections that he noticed.

“Like a prince,” Caduceus finally assured him. “The Etherians will find you impressive, no doubt.”

Hec-Tor allowed himself a moment to preen a little under the praise.

Wordlessly, Caduceus guided him towards the door to his bedroom, and Hec-Tor followed after him without complaint. He was rather hungry, and he still needed to take his medication anyway. When they entered the main living area of the Creche, Hec-Tor’s eyes immediately fell upon the large spread of food that had already been set out for him, on the low table in the center of the room. However, his brother was nowhere to be seen.

Hec-Tor’s eyes flicked to the door on the far side of the Creche, opposite of his, that led to Prime’s bedroom. It was closed, and he doubted that he’d pick up more than a stale scent if he tried to see if his brother had come through since last night. He had hoped that perhaps Prime would have set time aside for him this morning…

“… am I not having breakfast with Anillis?” he asked tentatively, glancing at Caduceus.

“He intended for you to,” Caduceus said vaguely. “Something came up.”

It was the usual answer. Something always came up… but rather than complain, Hec-Tor just sucked down a breath and nodded, trying to make it clear he understood.

“Will you sit and eat with me instead?” Hec-Tor asked hopefully, as he plopped down on one of the cushions that sat around the table. There were several more cushions than there had ever been inhabitants of the Creche—it was intended as a familial living space, but it had always been just him and Prime.

Caduceus’s mottled ear flicked and he reached up and lightly rub the tip as he thought. “Sit, perhaps… once I retrieve your medication,” he conceded, before turning away. His disappeared into the storage room that held the Creche’s medical supplies, leaving Hec-Tor alone for the moment.

It had not escaped his notice that Caduceus hadn’t said whether he’d eat or not—Hec-Tor couldn’t actually remember if he had ever seen Caduceus eat before, but he doubted that Caduceus would allow himself the indulgence now. Not that Hec-Tor could have blamed him if his stomach was tied in knots. He already had a tumultuous relationship with his appetite on a  _ good _ day, and he was certainly finding it difficult to stomach anything now that it was a nerve-wracking one.

“Hec-Tor, has your appetite left you?” Caduceus asked as he approached, carrying a small dish that had Hec-Tor’s medication sitting on it, alongside a glass of water. His gaze swept across the table, looking over the spread of food that Hec-Tor hadn’t touched.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Hec-Tor insisted—he didn’t want to be forced back to bed when he was so close to being allowed to attend a meeting. The spread of food was mostly made up of fruit, when tended to be easier on a Pyrian stomach than a more hearty dish like a meat-based one would be. However, he did spy a couple of egg-based dishes, and a single plate of what appeared to be slow-cooked meat that had been shredded and doused in a deep, purple sauce.

Caduceus gingerly set his medication down in front of him, and without thinking about it, Hec-Tor forced it down before he could linger on how ghastly it tasted. With his ears, Caduceus indicated to a plate sitting towards the middle of the table, which had several whole fruits stacked one atop the other in the makings of a pyramid. The deep purple skin of the fruit had been carved away in intricate patterns that were reminiscent of lacework, to reveal the pure white meat inside, presumably by one of the defter hands that was always at work in the kitchens.

“Horde Prime picked those fresh from the gardens himself this morning,” Caduceus continued. “The  _ polan _ was bearing fruit. He knows they’re your favorite.”

As much as Hec-Tor did enjoy  _ polan _ , he almost didn’t want to touch those. The designs that had been carved into them were so beautiful that he was hesitant to eat them… he must have passed the tree they had come from a thousand times. It had always been his brother’s favorite plant in the gardens, and he cared for that tree almost as much as he cared for Hec-Tor.

“… that was kind of him,” Hec-Tor finally managed to say before he reached out to pluck a  _ polan _ off the top of the stack. Under Caduceus’s watch, he made a show of biting into it, despite his lack of appetite.

Caduceus seemed more relieved than pleased as he finally settled down on one of the cushions around the table. However, he didn’t reach out to take any food for himself, even though there was more than enough. Hec-Tor could not have eaten everything that had been served by himself.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Hec-Tor asked, reaching out for a serving of one of the egg dishes. He would need more food in his stomach if he didn’t want his medication to react badly—one of the side effects of taking it on a empty stomach was aggravated fainting spells that the medication was supposed to help prevent.

“No,” Caduceus said, flicking his ears dismissively. “I ate hours ago.”

Hec-Tor decided not to press the issue, and continued picking at his food in silence. Thankfully, silences between him and Caduceus were rarely awkward. It felt less like the lull in an argument and more like a comfort… being alone with only his brother—and the Attendants that often shadowed him—had just never felt the same as when it was just him and Caduceus.

“Will you be staying?” Hec-Tor asked, hoping the question sounded casual, rather than nervous.

Caduceus didn’t speak immediately as he glanced at Hec-Tor. His eyes darted away, and he reached up, as he often did when nervous, to lightly rub the mottled tip of his ear between his fingers. “Unless Horde Prime dismisses me, I will be remaining at the foot of the dais, alongside the Attendants,” he finally said, in a tone he clearly meant to be reassuring. “But if I am dismissed, you have nothing to fear, Hec-Tor. Horde Prime will remain with you, and he will protect you if anything goes astray.”

“I-I know that, but—”

The door to the Creche slid open with a faint hiss, and Caduceus scrambled back to his feet, his eyes going wide as though he had just been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing. Hec-Tor’s eyes flicked to the door, expecting to see his brother—thinking that perhaps Prime had come to walk him to the throne room himself…

… but it was only a stony-faced Attendant, who immediately bowed deeply at the waist when he noticed Hec-Tor’s presence.

Hec-Tor bit back a retort about how that wasn’t necessary, and waited for the Attendant to rise again. Caduceus’s face had shifted entirely, and his ears were twitching uneasily against the sides of his head.

“What—What brings you here?” Hec-Tor asked, when the Attendant  _ didn’t _ rise again.

“Horde Prime regrets to inform you that you have been restricted to the Imperial Wing until further notice,” the Attendant said plainly, as he rose back to his full height. “He apologizes profusely, my Prince, but it is for your safety. You are permitted to move between the Creche and your lab, but anywhere else is strictly prohibited.”

Hec-Tor’s ears flicked in irritation—Prime had said he could attend the meeting, he was already dressed for it. Why had his brother suddenly decided to change his mind? He looked to Caduceus for answers, because Caduceus always seemed to have those ahead of everybody else aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ , but his Minder’s ears had pinned against the sides of his head.

“One of the Etherians has disappeared from her quarters, my Prince,” the Attendant continued. “And Horde Prime is not willing to risk your safety until she has been located. You are to remain in the Imperial Wing, where you will be safe and well cared for.”

—

Although Hec-Tor was well aware that Prime likely intended for him to stay safely hidden away in the Creche, he had found himself restless after only around thirty minutes.

Hec-Tor had never been particularly fond of sitting still or staying in the Creche, as his brother often insisted. It only became that much harder when something nerve-wrecking was going on outside the Imperial Wing. While Caduceus had tried to encourage him to read, Hec-Tor’s focus had waned, and he hadn’t been able to retain a single word that was on the page. He couldn’t sit around for the entire day, waiting for something to happen—for the rogue Etherian to be caught—and so, he managed to convince Caduceus that they should spend the morning in the sanctum instead.

After all, aside from the Creche and adjoining Emperor’s suite, Hec-Tor’s sanctum was one of the most heavily fortified rooms aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ . If he wasn’t cloistered away in his bedroom, the sanctum was the next safest place to be. A bomb could have gone off outside the doors and nothing would have given in.

And Hec-Tor could actually attest to that, having set off  _ several _ bombs by accident while testing prototypes for his brother in the past.

Besides, there was little chance of the escaped Etherian getting to the Imperial Wing in the first place, and so he could remain safe there until Prime either came to retrieve him or assured him that the danger had already been dealt with. Hec-Tor wouldn’t have to worry about it again. And until then, he could work with the strange shard of tech that his brother had brought back for him.

Standing in front of his workbench, Hec-Tor carefully turned the crystal over in his palm, lightly tracing the grooves that had been carved into the bright red surface. He was certain that they held some significance, but he had yet to figure out what they meant, despite mulling over it for hours. When he had initially tried to plug the crystal into one of his spare datapads, it had completely fried the internal circuitry, and the damage had been consistent with electrical overload. He didn’t know why because the crystal didn’t appear to be anything more than a small datachip. It shouldn’t have been capable of completely destroying a highly advanced datapad like that.

The only explanation he had come up with was that it was some kind of virus… but then he remembered how the lights had flickered in his bedroom when he had held it up the previous evening, and he was left with more questions than answers.

“Hec-Tor, I know it is not my place to say this,” Caduceus began, his tone mild. He was leaning back against the workbench beside Hec-Tor, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes fixed on the doors to the sanctum. Ever watchful in case someone managed to force their way in.

“I believe I’ve made it clear that I am more than happy to hear your opinions, Caduceus,” Hec-Tor said.

Caduceus’s mottled ear gave a twitch. “You should not be fooling around with that crystal,” he said, turning his head just enough to peer at it through narrowed eyes. “I don’t like it.”

Hec-Tor snorted and held up the crystal to the light again, smirking when it wavered in brightness, just as it had the evening before. This time, however, Caduceus actually noticed too, glancing up to the ceiling.

“I  _ really _ don’t like it,” he amended. “And I like things significantly less when you start smirking while fooling around with them in a lab setting.”

“You worry too much.”

“Well, that smirk of yours usually precedes an  _ explosion _ , so perhaps I am worrying more than enough.”

Hec-Tor hummed softly in response, but he barely heard what Caduceus had just said. While he might not have known what the crystal was for, he could tell that it was related to whatever had knocked the  _ Velvet Glove _ offline. The crystal had a certain energy to it, although he couldn’t quite articulate what that meant. All he could say was that there was an age to this tech…

… it might have even been older than the Horde Empire itself.

Beside him, Caduceus glanced at the timepiece on the wall, ears flicking at the tips. “It is nearly time for your medications, Hec-Tor.”

Hec-Tor grimaced at the reminder—he had forgotten about his afternoon medications, which he normally took with a meal in the Creche. However, he wasn’t hungry at the moment, despite how little he had actually ended up eating at breakfast. He had only eaten enough to make sure his medication didn’t react badly. Besides, he wanted to remain here, in his sanctum, and continue working.

“Will you be alright on your own if I leave you to go and get your medication?” Caduceus asked, tilting his head to the side. “I will lock the door behind me.”

“I think I can handle myself for five minutes,” Hec-Tor said, relieved that he hadn’t felt the need to ask if Hec-Tor would be scared of being left alone by himself.

Caduceus nodded. “Then, I shall return as quickly as possible.”

And then, he was gone, disappearing out into the hallway, pulling his hood back up over his head as he went. The large, reinforced doors slid shut behind him, and Hec-Tor’s ears twitched as he heard the locking mechanism shift back into place with a sharp thud. For the first time that day, Hec-Tor was left with only his own thoughts for company, and he was content with that. As much as he did care about Caduceus, and enjoyed spending time with him, the only time he could truly be alone was when Caduceus was running a quick errand for him—usually fetching his medication or food. 

Otherwise, they were practically connected at the hip, at Prime’s insistence. Hec-Tor was never to be alone, lest something happen.

He carefully turned the crystal over in his palm, frowning at it. While the previous evening, he had said he had never seen anything like it, he was certain he had seen diamonds in the iconography of several, long dead peoples. Some that had disappeared before Horde Prime Anillis IV had united the cosmos, following the collapse of the Eternian Empire, although many had been much, much older. He couldn’t say for sure if the crystal was connected to any of them, but the Vanishing Planet—Etheria—had allegedly been lost nearly a thousand years ago, shortly before his great-great-grandfather had risen to power.

It would be something he would need to research further, once he returned to the Creche for the evening. Requesting the files would be easy enough, and the Archivists were alway more than happy to help— _ giddy _ , even, at the prospect, in his experience. He could start with some of the more contemporary civilizations and then move backwards from there.

_ Thump _ !

Hec-Tor immediately froze in place, his ears twitching uneasily. As he listened, one of his ears swiveled up towards the ceiling, where the ventilation system was located. The initial sound had been quiet enough that Hec-Tor could have gone on assuming that he hadn’t heard anything at all, that it had just been…  _ air _ being forced through the vents by the  _ Velvet Glove _ ’s life support system, or—or an echo from Attendants working on the ventilation system in another part of the ship.

But then there was another thump, much louder and far  _ closer _ than the first one had been. And then a third, a fourth, a  _ fifth _ …

Any scrap of his attention that had been lingering on the strange piece of tech in front of him was immediately gone. Warily, he peered up towards the ceiling, and caught a flash of bright magenta through the grate there. His throat went dry as thin tendrils of shadow snaked out of the vent, curling around the screws holding the grate in place and loosening them. Wariness gave way to fear as the grate was sent crashing to the floor, mere feet away from where Hec-Tor was standing.

A shadowy figure lowered itself from the vent, settling itself on long, stilt-like legs, and Hec-Tor’s heart seized in his chest. He knew a shade when he saw one. 

Thankfully, the figure didn’t immediately notice him standing there, looking around the sanctum with large, bright magenta eyes. Hec-Tor remained frozen in place, unable to will his limbs to move. He wanted to make a run for it, to scream for help—there were always Attendants in the Imperial Wing, one of them would surely have heard him and come running to defend him—but then the shade’s gaze locked onto him.

It was between him and the door.

Hec-Tor nearly tripped over the skirts of his dress as he scrambled backwards, trying to put as much distance between himself and the shade as possible—until his back met the edge of his workbench. His heart hammered in his chest as the shade followed after him, letting out a sound that he could only interpret as one of  _ delight _ . 

This was it. This was how he rejoined the Eternal Light. Strangled to death by a shade in his own sanctum.

“Oh, hey!” the ‘shade’ said excitedly as  _ she _ finally emerged from the shadows… and Hec-Tor found himself nearly nasal ridge to nose with an alien he had never seen before in his life. She perched herself atop a shelf of what seemed to be her  _ hair _ and smiled at him. “Do you happen to have a six-sided hex driver I could borrow? I’ve been looking  _ everywhere _ for one… I think I left mine back on Etheria by accident.”

… ah, so she was one of those Etherians his brother had brought back with him the previous evening.

He could only stare at the Etherian blankly, unsure of how to respond. A faint blue dusted along the tips of his ears as he tried to bring his breathing back under control. His heart was still beating erratically in his chest. And then, she darted away from him with a surprising amount of grace for someone who was using their  _ hair _ to move. Hec-Tor stared after her, utterly dumbfounded by her presence.

And then, reality came crashing back into him. He was  _ alone _ , with one of the Etherians—the very one who he assumed had slipped away from the room she had been given, and disappeared. Nobody had been able to find her in the hours she had disappeared, and the  _ Velvet Glove _ had been on lockdown since then.

… and she had been moving through the  _ vents _ …

Hec-Tor reached behind himself blindly, never allowing his gaze to stray from where the Etherian was, even though she didn’t even seem to notice he was there anymore. But his brother would have told him not to take his eyes off of someone who was a threat to him, lest they catch him while his guard was done. When his fingers finally curled around his comlink, he backed away slowly, trying to put as much distance between himself and her as he could manage. His hands were shaking so badly that he nearly dropped the comlink as he tried to input his brother’s com-code.

“ _ Anillis _ !” Hec-Tor hissed into the comlink.

Thankfully, Prime responded almost immediately, even if he sounded a touch exasperated. “ _ Hec-Tor, I am rather preoccupied at the moment. Can we do this later? _ ”

“There is an Etherian in my sanc—in—in my lab! I—I think she might be the one who disappeared!”

All he received in response was silence.

“… Anillis?” Hec-Tor asked, fearing the com had cut out. He glanced back at the Etherian again, but she still wasn’t paying him any mind at all. Instead, she was looking around his sanctum with wide, sparkling eyes. A soft, warbling chirp rose in the back of his throat, and that seemed to finally knock Prime out of whatever stupor he had been in.

However, when he did finally speak up, his tone had shifted entirely. “…  _ Hec-Tor, where is your Minder? _ ”

“He just left to get my medication. I—I don’t know when he’ll be back. Can you come and get me?”

“ _ Do not do anything foolish. I’ll be right there. _ ”

Hec-Tor let a relieved breath as the comlink cut out, and then he hazarded a glance back at the Etherian. His hand twitched as he reached out and snatched a wrench off of his workbench. Taking a deep breath, he squared his shoulders before stepping forward. His brother would be here soon, but in the meantime, he didn’t want this Etherian to get any ideas. He refused to just sit here and wait for her to make some kind of move against him— _ obviously _ that was why she had come here, and that whole thing about the ‘hex driver’ was a bold-faced lie that she had told him in order to get him to let his guard down.

And now she had the  _ gall _ to act like she didn’t even notice he was still standing there as she moved around his sanctum, cooing over the technology!

“My—my brother is on his way!” Hec-Tor snapped as he approached her, clenching the wrench tightly in his hand, just in case he had to use it as a makeshift weapon. “And when he gets here there will be dire consequences for—”

“Oh, good!” the Etherian said, grinning before she darted closer to him and plucked the wrench straight from his grasp with very little effort. Hec-Tor was embarrassed to admit he flinched when she did that, and hastily took several steps back away from her, expecting her to immediately lash out at him. However, she merely sat there, turning the wrench over in the locks of her lavender hair before scratching the top of her head with a stray flock.

“… this isn’t a hex driver,” she finally said, looking back at him with a frown.

Hec-Tor could only blink at her, dumbfounded… he didn’t even know what a hex driver was.

At his non-answer, the Etherian waved a flock of hair in a manner that reminded Hec-Tor of a dismissive ear twitch. Then, she tossed him back the wrench—which he hastily caught—and moved away from him again, back over to the storage racks that lined the back wall of the sanctum. “Oh, I’m sure you have  _ something _ here that would be analogous to a hex driver!” she insisted.

And then she started poking around through  _ his _ belongings, pushing aside boxes or digging around through the items on the shelves.

Hec-Tor growled and took a half-step towards her, only to catch himself. He was meant to be keeping his distance until his brother got here to handle the situation. Taking a deep breath, he tried to maintain his composure. “Miss—”

“Entrapta,” she immediately corrected with a bright smile over her shoulder.

“ _ Entrapta _ , then,” Hec-Tor said, before clearing his throat awkwardly and squaring his shoulders—hoping he looked far more dignified than he currently felt. “Do  _ not _ go through my things.”

“… but I really need a hex driver,” Entrapta repeated, and there was something in her tone that suggested this ‘hex driver’ she was looking for was very important. It was difficult to tell for sure without mobile ears—and how Etherians denoted tone properly without them was a mystery Hec-Tor couldn’t hope to begin to solve—but something about her voice suggested that her words were… well, genuine.

“Then why don’t you just ask?” Hec-Tor said as he approached the storage racks. His ears were trained on her, just in case, but Entrapta moved to the side without complaint, lingering a couple of feet away, watching him. “Um… what does a ‘hex driver’ look like? I might have an equivalent somewhere.”

“Oh, the one I have at home is about the length of my palm! I use it to fasten in bolts and—” Entrapta cut off abruptly, and she let out an excited sounding coo.

When Hec-Tor glanced back at her, he found that her attention had drifted, and now she was staring at the board where he would frequently write out formulations and notes while working on his experiments. It was both a problem solving tool and a memory aid, given to him by his brother when his notes had first begun making their way off of paper and onto his skin. It had been easier to just jot down things on his wrist when he thought of them in the moment, so he didn’t forget. However, Prime had been convinced he was going to poison himself with the ink, so he had given Hec-Tor the board to write on instead.

“Is this portal theory?” Entrapta asked, tilting her head to the side. A ripple passed through her hair from her scalp down to the tips of her long ponytails, and she let out a soft, excited squeak. “That’s how Etheria came out of Despondos, you know!” she added, flipping over backwards, and balancing herself in the air on her hair, so they were nearly nose-to-nasal ridge again.

Hec-Tor took a half-step away from her, his back meeting the storage rack. The tips of his ears heated beneath the white gold of his ear clasps, but he took a deep breath and tried to maintain his composure. “ _ Despondos _ ?” he repeated, testing the word on his tongue. He was unfamiliar with the term.

“Yeah, it was this… shadowy dimension,” Entrapta said. “We didn’t even have stars there!”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a nervous flick at the eerie description… High Aurora Alekos had once described the Void like that—a shadowy place that was never touched by starlight, where one’s only company was cloying darkness and the shades that called the place home. What a terrible place for the Vanishing Planet to have ended up…

“… so, the Vanishing—I—I mean  _ Etheria _ ,” he quickly corrected himself, now that he knew the planet’s actual name. “It came out of this  _ despondos _ through a planet-sized portal? I had been speculating that you were hidden by cloaking technology. It never occurred to me that you might have been—”

He bit his tongue, realizing he had begun to ramble.

Entrapta however, tilted her head. “Might have been what?”

“Uh, I—It’s not important,” Hec-Tor said, shaking his head. “Just—Just a silly little theory. Nothing more.”

Entrapta smiled, resting her chin against the back of her hands, which were laced together. “I like ‘silly little theories’!”

“… you actually want to hear one of my theories?” Hec-Tor said before he could stop himself. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had actually asked him to elaborate on what he was talking about, much less understood what he had just said. Prime didn’t care for the intricacies of science, preferring immediate results, and while Caduceus did listen and tried his best to make conversation, Hec-Tor had always been able to tell that he didn’t understand a word of what he was being told.

“Sure!” Entrapta said eagerly. “Lay it on me!”

Hec-Tor’s ears twitched at the unfamiliar turn of phrase, but he ignored it. “Uh—I—I had assumed that the most obvious explanation for why the Vanishing Planet—that is  _ Etheria _ —had managed to evade detection for so long was that it had advanced cloaking technology… it did not occur to me that it might have been the work of a portal. I am familiar with the concept, of course, but my brother has forbidden me from studying them further after—after they proved  _ difficult _ to parse.”

That answered one question, but it still left him wondering how they had managed to power such a device. He had only attempted to build portals on a very small scale, with the intention of improving troop movements across the Empire. It had been an effort to lessen his brother’s stress, worrying over transporting troops to various outposts when the easiest solution was obviously transporting them via wormholes. 

However, while he had learned during his tests that portals required an immense amount of energy to power, his tests had never knocked the  _ Velvet Glove _ offline… just leveled a single wall of the sanctum.

“Y’know, I’ve been theorizing it might’ve been connected to the Heart,” Entrapta said offhandedly.

Hec-Tor glanced back up at her. “The what?”

“The Heart of Etheria,” Entrapta said with a bright grin. “I found this file on it while digging around in the archives at Mystacor—Shadow Weaver told me not to go in there, but I felt it was very important for my research into First One’s tech—”

“Is that what this is?” Hec-Tor asked, moving around her and grabbing the crystal he had left sitting on his workbench.

“Yep! That’s First One’s tech,” Entrapta said cheerfully. “According to the file I found—which was very vague, by the way—the Heart of Etheria siphons energy from the Runestones and collects it at, well, the heart of the planet. I don’t know how it works exactly, Shadow Weaver would never let me touch the Black Garnet, which is an absolute  _ travesty _ for the advancement of my research, but—”

Hec-Tor’s stomach dropped as the realization dawned on him, and he very nearly cursed at his own stupidity. “… you’re the tech expert.”

Entrapta shrugged, not seeming to realize the severity of the situation. “I mean, I  _ guess _ ?” she said, tapping her chin with a stray flock of her hair. “I  _ am _ renowned with the Maker’s Guild for my work with First One’s tech, and Shadow Weaver recruited me specifically because I could provide her with more advanced weaponry—”

Whatever else she said fell on deaf ears—Hec-Tor barely heard her. She was the tech expert, and he had called his brother to the sanctum, like Void-damned  _ fool _ , because he had naively assumed that she was here to kill him.

“Entrapta, you have to go—” Hec-Tor started.

She looked almost wounded by that, and her brow pinched. “… what?”

Hec-Tor’s ears flattened against the sides of his head, longing for her to understand what kind of danger she was currently in. Prime had already made it clear that he didn’t like her, and Hec-Tor had never known his brother to be forgiving if he perceived someone as a threat to Hec-Tor’s safety. “You  _ must  _ leave before my brother—”

Behind them, the door to the sanctum opened, cutting Hec-Tor off before he could finish, and his stomach twisted as his brother strode in. While Prime made for Hec-Tor and immediately began circling him, Hec-Tor barely heard a word of what his brother was saying to him.

There was another person in the doorway, who had seemingly followed his brother here—taller than Entrapta, but still shorter than Hec-Tor was himself, with long red-and-black robes that swept across the floor. Her hair seemed to move of its own accord, drifting through the air as though it was underwater, and her face was completely hidden from view by a mask that matched her robes, making it impossible to discern her facial expressions… but her gaze was locked upon him and Prime, moving back and forth between the two of them.

An uneasy shiver ran up his spine when their gazes met, and Hec-Tor quickly glanced away.

“Light above, don’t scare me like that, Hec-Tor,” Prime chided him as he took hold of Hec-Tor’s chin and lifted it to check his face over.

Hec-Tor jerked his chin out of Prime’s grasp, ears twitching nervously against the sides of his head. “I’m fine,” he mumbled under his breath.

“And I am relieved to hear that,” Prime said before his gaze snapped over to Entrapta, and his lip curled back into a vicious smirk that was half-canine. “ _ Now then _ —”

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Entrapta said cheerfully, waving a flock of her hair at them in greeting. She seemed utterly oblivious to the danger she was currently in.

A low, irritated growl rumbled deep in Prime’s chest. “It seems to have escaped your notice, seeing as you disappeared from the quarters that I so graciously provided you with at the earliest convenience, but the Velvet Glove happens to be  _ my _ ship. And you would do well to—”

Entrapta merely waved that same flock of hair in a dismissive manner as she cut him off. “Well, I know it’s your ship. You’ve only said so twenty times since you brought us aboard,” she said, her grin never fading. “What I meant was, what are you doing here, in Hec-Tor’s sanctum!”

“… Anillis…” Hec-Tor whispered, reaching out to lightly touch his brother’s arm.

Prime’s attention, however, was so focused on Entrapta he barely even seemed to notice. “I am here because Hec-Tor called for me. He said the Etherian who had slipped away from her room was accosting him in his lab,” he said, and his arm slipped out of Hec-Tor’s grasp as he began approaching Entrapta in a slow amble. The cables that were docked along his collar rose into the air with a faint hiss, framing his face like vipers.

Finally, the witch lingering in the doorway spoke up. “Your Grace, I would advise against harming her.”

“Oh, I do not sacrifice Hec-Tor’s safety for  _ anything _ , Lady Shadow Weaver,” Prime retorted, his voice taking on a cool saccharine purr. “In fact, threatening to harm him is considered an act of treason of the highest order.”

“Anillis, wait!”

Hec-Tor had moved before he had even realized what he was doing or why he was doing it. He darted around his brother without a second thought, putting himself between Prime and Entrapta, and that was enough to give Prime pause. For a moment, the two of them stared at one another, but Hec-Tor refused to budge, even when his brother was giving him a stern look through four narrowed eyes.

“Hec-Tor… step aside,” Prime ordered.

“No, this isn’t fair,” Hec-Tor said firmly. “I was too hasty when I called for you… Entrapta didn’t do anything to me, I don’t even think she meant to startle me. She was even going to explain to me how First One’s tech works before—”

“ _ Hec-Tor _ ,” Prime cut in, and then he lifted his gaze to glare at Entrapta, who was lingering at Hec-Tor’s back. “She is clearly dangerous, and anything that is dangerous to you—”

“She is  _ necessary _ to unlocking the Heart of Etheria!” Hec-Tor said, almost on the verge of pleading.

Prime sighed, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers in exasperation. “And just what, dare I ask, is the Heart of Etheria?”

To Hec-Tor’s surprise, it was Shadow Weaver who answered the question—he had almost forgotten that she was standing there, watching this unfold, while doing very little to actually stop it. “The Heart of Etheria is that weapon I mentioned to you, your Grace,” she said mildly, but that was all she said.

She didn’t lift a finger more to attempt to help Hec-Tor plead Entrapta’s case… had Entrapta not implied that Shadow Weaver was her superior? Why wasn’t she trying to defend her from his brother’s misguided wrath?

Frowning, Hec-Tor pushed the thought from his mind. “Anillis, Entrapta is the leading expert amongst the Etherians—she—she said that she was renowned amongst the ‘Builder’s Guild’—”

“Maker’s Guild,” Entrapta corrected gently.

“—and she says that she’s been trying to research the Heart of Etheria, but she isn’t quite sure how it works yet,” Hec-Tor continued.

“Actually, I have a hypothesis about that too!” Entrapta spoke up. “She Ra’s sword was mentioned in the text I read—you probably need both the sword  _ and _ the Runestones to activate it properly—” She tapped her chin with a flock of her hair. “—of course, that’s just a hypothesis. I haven’t actually seen She Ra’s sword since the planet went all screwy and we ended up out here!”

Prime’s natural eyes widened a fraction, before his jaw clenched. “Is that so?” he said, and Hec-Tor’s ears flicked back as he detected the venomous undertone to his brother’s words. It was the tone he used when he wasn’t pleased by something.

“Anillis, if you want to unlock that weapon, Entrapta is the only person who can do it,” Hec-Tor pressed, looking up at his brother pleadingly.

Prime’s smile was tight. “Well, we don’t have any scientists who can assist her, Hec-Tor.”

“Oh, but you  _ do _ !” Entrapta cut in excitedly as she emerged out from behind Hec-Tor, lingering closer to Prime than he seemed to be comfortable with, judging by the set of his ears. Entrapta, however, did not seem to notice. “I think that Hec-Tor—”

“ _ Prince _ Hec-Tor,” Prime hissed through his teeth.

If Entrapta heard him, however, she didn’t seem to care. “—would make the _ perfect _ Lab Partner for me in my research!” she continued. “He is highly intuitive, and a  _ very _ good listener!”

Hec-Tor’s ears dusted a faint shade of blue at the compliment. “I can keep her on track, Anillis,” he insisted. “I swear, we will find a way to unlock the weapon, whatever the cost.”

And then, much to his surprise, his brother… actually agreed.

“Oh, very well,” Prime said, before he snapped his fingers. Hec-Tor’s ears flicked at the sound and he peered around his brother, watching as two Attendants emerged from the hallway, stepping around Shadow Weaver who still lingered in the doorway. The Attendants lingered a few paces away, watching Prime attentively as they awaited their orders. “However, Princess Entrapta’s guard will be doubled, and you are not permitted to begin this  _ research _ until the sword has been located and brought here for study.”

Then, to the Attendants he added, “Return Princess Entrapta to her room and ensure she stays there. She is not permitted to leave until I say so.”

Without uttering a word, both Attendants dipped into bows, and then they brushed past Hec-Tor and began ushering Entrapta from the room. Just before she was led out, however, she eagerly waved back at Hec-Tor with one of her ponytails, grinning from ear to ear. While Prime frowned deeply at her, Hec-Tor merely watched her go, tilting his head to the side. He was too dumbfounded to respond.

“I take it our business has concluded, your Grace?” Shadow Weaver asked in a low drawl as two more Attendants appeared in the doorway to the sanctum and took up position on either side of her.

“For now,” Prime said, with a dismissive flick of his ears. He didn’t even spare her a second glance. “We shall pick up where we left off tomorrow. I have other duties I must attend to, in the meantime.”

Shadow Weaver hummed softly. “Pity that,” was all she said before dipping her head. When she rose back to her full height, her eyes darted to Hec-Tor once more before she was led away. He found himself pinned beneath her stare, and he was struck by how she  _ moved _ —something about her gait felt unnatural to him.

An uneasy feeling settled into his gut, and he only managed to rein those feelings in when Caduceus appeared in the doorway finally. He was carrying Hec-Tor’s medication and a small plate of food, as was usual for Hec-Tor’s lunch, and he paused when Shadow Weaver crossed his path, staring at her with wide, surprised eyes. His shoulders stiffened as he seemed to immediately realize that something had happened in the time he had been gone from the sanctum.

Hec-Tor could see the shake in his hands, the bob of his throat as he swallowed thickly, and then quickly moved to set the medicine and food down before he could accidentally drop them onto the floor of the sanctum and make a mess.

“001-11992,” Prime said, in a chilling tone. “Would you care to explain why Hec-Tor was left alone?”

Caduceus visibly stiffened, his ears twitching nervously beneath his hood as he half-turned to look over his shoulder. “I—I locked the door behind me when I left, Horde Prime.”

“It’s not his fault, Anillis,” Hec-Tor spoke up before Prime could needle at his Minder more. He motioned up to the vent that Entrapta had emerged from, which was still missing its grate. “She came in through the ventilation system… you can bypass the door locks doing that.”

Prime sighed, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers again. “Hec-Tor, I am allowing you to work with that girl as a means of pragmatism, but you  _ must _ be careful around her. Do you understand?”

Hec-Tor very nearly agreed without a second thought—of course he would be careful the next time he and Entrapta interacted—but then he actually considered the question. He knew what his brother actually meant was for him to not treat their future meetings as anything more than him ensuring that she didn’t become distracted from her work. The Heart of Etheria was of the utmost importance, and therefore the work that needed to be done in order to unlock it was also of the utmost importance.

But Entrapta had actually been surprisingly… well, nice. He no longer thought that she had meant to scare him at all, and she certainly hadn’t attempted to harm him, even though they had been alone for several minutes and he hadn’t even had a weapon to defend himself with. If she had wanted to harm him, she had had every opportunity to do so…

“But what if—” Hec-Tor began.

Prime rolled his eyes. “Hec-Tor, do not make me regret allowing you to work with her,” he stated firmly, before he reached out and began threading his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest, trying to straighten a flock that had fallen into his face in all of the excitement. “However, I will concede that you did a marvelous job of getting information out of her.”

Hec-Tor frowned at that. “I—I didn’t get information out of her,” he argued. “We were just talking, and she happened to mention it.”

“Same thing,” Prime said with a dismissive flick of his ears. “Now then, I was meant to have tea with Queen Glimmer and Lady Shadow Weaver’s ward tomorrow… but how would you like to go in my place?”

Hec-Tor peered up at his brother, confused by his sudden shift in mood. “…  _ just _ tea?”

And Prime smiled back at him. “Just tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: call of the auroras


	3. Call of the Auroras

Carrying out precursory research was nothing new to Hec-Tor… it was actually something of a nervous habit, mostly done when he found it difficult to sleep. And it had been very difficult to sleep when he knew that the following morning, his brother was expecting him to make a good impression on their guests. While he had no idea what time he had ended up falling asleep, when Hec-Tor awoke the following morning, his datapad had been taken from his grasp.

He sat up and glanced around the room, before he found it sitting on his nightstand. Caduceus must have found him after he had fallen asleep and moved it so that he wouldn’t accidentally roll on it while he slept. Over the hum of the ship’s life support system, Hec-Tor heard the bath running in the next room, meaning that soon Caduceus would emerge and herd him away for his bath. For the moment, though, he was allowed just a little bit of extra time to relax.

Rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his hand, Hec-Tor reached out and plucked his datapad up. All of the files were still open on it. Although he had stayed up late, combing through the Archives for even a shred of information on First One’s tech, he had found nothing for his efforts except for some thoroughly degraded files that had been unreadable. His frustration had only been mitigated by him expecting little else. The archives that were housed aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ were almost entirely digital, meaning they were highly susceptible to digital decay and at risk of being lost entirely.

The only thing Hec-Tor could be certain of at this point was that First One’s tech was not native to Etheria. The way that Entrapta had spoken of it—and implied that she was one of the few people alive who actually knew how to work with it—had been enough to confirm that for him. Why would an entire group of people be incapable of understanding their own technology, even at the basest level? In addition, he could only assume the name itself was a colloquialism. 

Judging by how Entrapta had spoken, the Etherians were not spacefaring, so they may well have taken to calling the first outsiders to visit their planet the ‘First Ones’, and the name had stuck for over a thousand years. However, as much as Hec-Tor wanted to ask Entrapta more questions—she certainly would have been more knowledgeable about this than he was, and could have pointed him in the right direction—he knew better than to try and reach out to her again. Prime had been very firm. They weren’t to have contact again until the sword had been located and returned to the _ Velvet Glove _ for study.

“Good morning, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said as he emerged from the bathroom, rolling down the sleeves of his uniform as he went. “I was going to let you rest until I was done drawing your bath.”

Hec-Tor hummed softly. His gaze didn’t stray from the screen of his datapad. “When do we leave?”

On the other side of the room, he heard Caduceus shuffling through one of the racks in his closet as he tried to pick out an outfit for Hec-Tor to wear. While the dress he was supposed to have worn yesterday was nice, it was far too ostentatious for a friendly tea. However, Hec-Tor had many other dresses that would suit just fine, most of which he had never had the opportunity to wear either.

“After you’ve had breakfast,” Caduceus said, his words punctuated by the rustling of fabric as he seemed to find the proper dress.

At his words, Hec-Tor glanced up and frowned in confusion. “Why would I eat before I am meant to have tea?”

Caduceus said nothing for a moment, carefully hanging the dress up beside the door to the bathroom. Then, his ears gave a nervous flutter. “… Horde Prime has made it clear that the Etherians cannot know of your illness,” he said carefully, looking over his shoulder. “You taking medication in front of them would be suspicious.”

The very tips of Hec-Tor’s ears dusted blue. He had forgotten about his medication, but now that he had been reminded, he understood his brother’s reasoning. It would only take the Etherians witnessing him taking his medication one too many times for them to recognize it as a pattern…

“I’ll come and get you once the bath is ready,” Caduceus said, before he disappeared back into the bathroom. The door closed behind him and Hec-Tor was left alone again.

There was no point in lingering in bed, and so, Hec-Tor set his datapad to the side before stretching his arms above his head. As he finally rolled out of bed and made his way over to his vanity, he noticed that there wasn’t as much pain lingering in his limbs as usual—which was a relief, considering he would be meeting with the Etherians in less than two hours. Leaning over, he peered at his reflection in the mirror, noting that his crest could probably have done with a trim. It was long enough that it was beginning to flop to the side, making it more difficult to make it lie flat. Hastily, he reached up and began fussing with it.

_ Thump _ !

One of his ears twitched at the sound—he might have taken it for the sound of Caduceus dropping something in the bathroom, had it not been immediately followed by an excited hum that echoed through the ventilation shaft that sat just above his vanity. Hec-Tor took a hasty step back away from his vanity, glancing up at the grate just as it popped out of place, revealing the one person who was not supposed to be  _ anywhere _ near him at the moment.

Not that Entrapta seemed to notice or care.

“Hec-Tor!” she said excitedly, poking her head out of the vent. “I finally found your room!”

Although Hec-Tor opened his mouth to say something, he found that his voice was completely gone. The most action he could muster was blinking at her at shock.

“Does your brother know this place is like a  _ maze _ ?” Entrapta asked, sounding rather irritated—although Hec-Tor couldn’t be sure since her ears didn’t move. “I’ve been trying to find you for like an hour, but I kept getting turned around—what kind of ventilation system isn’t conducive to exploration?”

“… you are not supposed to be here,” Hec-Tor finally managed to say, which was a horrible understatement. Not only had she been searching for his room in specific, not only had she managed to slip her Attendants again, but he was still in his nightgown.

“And where is  _ here _ , exactly?” Entrapta said as she peered around the room, tapping her chin with the end of one of her ponytails. “Your room appears to be connected to a communal living space, but most of the bedrooms are unoccupied, except for the one on the far side.”

Hec-Tor took a deep breath, unsure of how much he should actually divulge to her.  _ None _ of the Etherians were meant to be in the Imperial Wing in the first place unless they had been invited there by his brother, and they certainly weren’t supposed to make it to the Creche. If Prime found out that she had been here… he dreaded to think about what his brother might do to her. However, it also seemed like an innocent enough question, and she wouldn’t know what he chose not to tell her anyway.

“This is the Creche,” Hec-Tor finally said, although his hesitance still bled into his voice despite his best efforts to keep it contained. If Entrapta noticed, however, she didn’t let on. “It—It is a space that is meant for the current Horde Prime’s children, the youngest of the current generation.”

Entrapta peered at him, tilting her head to the side. “I thought Horde Prime was your  _ brother _ .”

Hec-Tor frowned, not understanding her meaning. “He… is? Anillis does not have children.” 

Despised them, even, based on how his brother often spoke of children. As far as Hec-Tor knew, the  _ Velvet Glove _ ’s creche had only been built because it was the standard design for Pyrian households back on Vampyrus. While pups were considered the lifeblood of clans, they were also incredibly needy and did not enjoy being separated from their caretakers. When Hec-Tor was a pup, he had often toddled around after his brother like a newly hatched baby bird, clinging to Prime’s skirts with little needle sharp talons.

His brother had never seemed bothered by that… had even encouraged it, for a time, taking Hec-Tor everywhere with him aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ . That, of course, had been before the Supervising Drones had formulated the medication that had helped stabilize Hec-Tor’s condition. Prior to that, his health had always been in doubt, and so his brother might have been worried that if he let Hec-Tor out of his sight, when he was finally able to return, Hec-Tor would have already passed on.

“You’re rather large for a child,” Entrapta’s voice cut through his thoughts. She was still peering at him, and she seemed to have only grown more confused.

“… that is because I am not a child,” Hec-Tor said dryly.

“But you said that this space was meant for the  _ youngest _ of the current generation!” Entrapta retorted. “I passed plenty of empty bedrooms that aren’t connected to this ‘Creche’—” She made a motion that Hec-Tor did not recognize, curling two fingers on each hand as she said the word creche. “—complex at all, including some that are nearer to your sanctum. Why aren’t you in one of those?”

It wasn’t a question that Hec-Tor had thought about in many years. While he should have moved out of the Creche years ago, the Imperial Wing was also horribly lonely, even with the Attendants roaming the halls. His brother’s room was only just across the Creche as well. When Hec-Tor had first moved into his room, he had been inconsolable, because prior to that, he had spent nights with his brother. He hadn’t liked being separated from him… and he still didn’t think fondly on the idea, admittedly.

“… Anillis insists I am safer here,” Hec-Tor said, fiddling with the hem of one of his sleeves, taking care not to cut into the pure white fabric with his talons. “And my brother knows what is best for me.”

One of his ears twitched in the direction of the bathroom then, and he was startled to find that the water was no longer running. Caduceus could appear in mere moments to fetch him so that he could bathe… and if  _ he _ saw Entrapta, Hec-Tor wasn’t actually sure what would happen.

“Entrapta, you… you  _ really _ are not supposed to be here,” Hec-Tor stressed, trying to make her understand. His brother was already convinced she was some sort of demonic assassin… finding out that she was still sneaking around through the vents and had actually sought out  _ Hec-Tor _ out in his bedroom? Prime would have torn the ship apart to get a hold of her.

Entrapta frowned, her brow pinching. A flock of her hair moved to snap her welding mask down over her face. “… oh.”

Hec-Tor’s heart sank just a bit—even without ear movements, he could tell that he had said something wrong. “It—It is not that I don’t want to speak with you!” he said quickly, because that couldn’t have been further from the truth. He desperately wanted to speak with her again, when they had hours to do so. They had barely had time to talk at all the previous day, and he was very eager to learn all that he could from her about First One’s tech.

If he hadn’t been such a fool and called for his brother before realizing she wasn’t a threat, they might have had more time to talk.

“My brother is just… um…” Hec-Tor trailed off, not sure how to articulate what he wanted to say.

“Paranoid? Presumptuous?” Entrapta suggested, tilting her head.

Hec-Tor cleared his throat awkwardly, hating how close to the mark she actually was. “Anillis was in one his moods… he is very protective of me,” he said before fixing her with a serious look and hoping it would be enough to make her understand. “Which is why it is imperative that you do not return to the Imperial Wing without your Attendants. He will be very angry if he realizes you’ve been here, Entrapta…”

Entrapta pouted. “… but he said we couldn’t start our tests until the sword arrived.”

“I am meeting with him later this afternoon, after I have tea with your fellow Etherians, so I will ask him about the sword then?” Hec-Tor offered as a compromise. He doubted that there would be any word yet, as it hadn’t even been a full day since Prime had ordered for the search, but if the suggestion cheered Entrapta up. “And I shall send Ca—my—my Minder with a message when I find out if it will be arriving soon?”

Surely Prime couldn’t find an argument against such long-distance communication. He had merely said to be careful around Entrapta, and Hec-Tor was doing that.

“I  _ am _ looking forward to working with you,” Hec-Tor hastily added, feeling the tips of his ears dust blue. He just hoped the next time they spoke, he’d be properly dressed and not in his nightgown.

Entrapta smiled at him, resting her chin atop the back of her hands. “I’m looking forward to working with you too.”

And then she was gone, disappearing back into the ventilation system and closing the grate behind her. Hec-Tor took a step forward, tilting his head to the side as he stared at the spot she had been a mere moment before.

“Hec-Tor, your bath is—” Caduceus paused in the doorway to the bathroom, tilting his head to the side as he stared at Hec-Tor. “… are you alright?”

“I—Fine—I’m fine,” Hec-Tor said hastily as he turned away from the vent and brushed past Caduceus to enter the bathroom, trying to force what had just transpired to the back of his mind.

And if Caduceus noticed his curtness, he didn’t say so.

—

Leaving the Imperial Wing was a very rare occurrence for Hec-Tor, and he usually only did when he was visiting with his brother in the throne room. But evidently, his brother thought that this tea was better held in the Guest Wing, where the Etherians were staying. If he had been younger, Hec-Tor might have found the change exciting, but right now, he could hardly think straight. Perhaps it was his nerves getting the better of him… his heart hadn’t stopped racing since they had left the Creche.

Standing in front of the door to one of the smaller dining rooms, however, Hec-Tor was half-tempted to call the whole thing off and demand to be returned to the Imperial Wing. The only reason he hadn’t done so yet was that Caduceus hadn’t left his side, and presumably wouldn’t anytime soon.

“Are you ready, Hec-Tor?” Caduceus asked. His hand lingered just above the palm scanner that sat beside the door, and he was staring at Hec-Tor expectantly.

Hec-Tor took a deep breath and adjusted his posture—squaring his shoulders, holding his head high like he had always seen his brother do whenever he wanted to appear taller and more imposing. Where Prime’s posture still held an air of ease, there was a rigidness to Hec-Tor’s, no matter what he tried. But there was nothing to be done for it now. He just needed to keep his nerves in check and not trip over his own skirts while making his way to his seat. That, at least, was completely doable, and once he was sitting down and had something to do with his hands, it would be easier.

“Go ahead,” Hec-Tor finally said.

Caduceus dipped his head once, casting his face further into shadow, before he pressed his hand to the palm scanner. The door opened a moment later, and Hec-Tor strode inside.

“Presenting His Imperial Highness, Prince Hec-Tor Kur, Heir Apparent to the throne,” Caduceus said behind him, and Hec-Tor tried not to grimace at the sound of all of his titles being listed. He would have preferred to be introduced by just his name…

The first thing that Hec-Tor noticed was how the scent of alkaline metals hung heavy in the air—it took him a moment to figure out that it must have been coming from the Etherians. The scent was muted, but still present. Hec-Tor’s eyes fell upon the two girls who were already sitting at the table in the center of the room, and he froze in place beneath their stares. While he knew that one of them must have been Queen Glimmer, while the other was the ward of Lady Shadow Weaver, he hadn’t received a proper dossier on either of them.

One of them had bright pink-and-purple hair that seemed to sparkle in the low light of the dining room, although whether it was _ natural _ or merely cosmetic, Hec-Tor couldn’t tell. She wore an extravagant gown of purples, pinks, and blues, with a sweeping cape that had pooled behind her. A diadem sat atop her head, and a white, opalescent gemstone rested against her forehead, with ear ornamentation to match dangling from her ear lobes. She must have been Queen Glimmer—only a queen would wear regalia like that.

Which meant the other was Lady Shadow Weaver’s ward. She was much taller—Queen Glimmer only appeared to reach her shoulder—and broader in the shoulders, with off-white hair and what appeared to be a  _ carapace _ of all things covering her back. The bright red plates followed her spine, ending in a segmented tail that had a stinger at the end. Thankfully, her posture was lax, so she didn’t appear to be poised to strike. She also didn’t have hands, which appeared to have been replaced by giant pedipalps instead. Her dress was far simpler, almost entirely black and red in coloration, and she lacked similar regalia to Queen Glimmer despite presumably being of similar station.

They were smaller than he assumed they’d be. He had thought that perhaps Entrapta’s stature was an aberration, that most Etherians were much taller. Lady Shadow Weaver was only half a head shorter than he was, after all. Both of the girls were also young, or at least, Hec-Tor assumed they were young by Etherian standards. Admittedly, he was going based off of how Pyrians showed their age. As Pyrians grew older, their skin and hair lost some of its vibrancy, and he knew of very few species where the skin of one’s face lost its pigmentation during puberty, leaving behind skull-like masking, as was the case with Pyrians. However, loose skin, especially around the face, seemed to be a stable barometer across multiple species. Neither of these girls showed that, so he felt safe assuming they were relatively young.

Queen Glimmer in particular didn’t appear to be much older than Prime would have been when he had originally taken the throne after the death of their father… which was to say ‘of age’ but ‘younger than she reasonably should be’. He found himself wondering if she had lost someone too.

A shiver ran up his spine beneath Queen Glimmer’s stare. There was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite identify without the accompanying ear movements, but it looked very similar to loathing.

“Is—Is there a problem?” Hec-Tor asked, internally cursing his own stutter.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Queen Glimmer said with a tight smile. “I was just under the impression we were meeting with Horde Prime.”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a confused flutter at the sides of his head. Had nobody informed them that he would be the one attending this meeting? “Well… well, there has been a change of plans,” Hec-Tor said simply. “My brother asked me to take his place for this meeting. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Queen Glimmer and…”

He trailed off, glancing at the other girl uncertainly. She had, up until this point, only been referred to as Lady Shadow Weaver’s ward, rather than her name.

“Oh! Hi, I’m Scorpia—Princess Scorpia!” she said with a smile.

“Princess Scorpia, then,” Hec-Tor said as he sat down opposite of them. Immediately, Caduceus moved forward and began serving him a cup of tea. “While my brother neglected to inform me of what his business was, I am sure that it is of the utmost importance.”

With that, silence lapsed between the three of them, and Hec-Tor found that he had no idea how to restart the conversation. He didn’t even know what his brother intended for him to do here besides have a friendly tea with their guests. However, while he might have struggled to make conversation, Hec-Tor could be rather observant, when he wanted to be.

Queen Glimmer was now avoiding his gaze, staring at the plate that was in front of her. She had only taken enough food that Hec-Tor figured she must have done so out of politeness, rather than hunger, and she wasn’t touching any of it. In comparison, Princess Scorpia had piled food onto her plate, and seemed much more at ease now that there had been introductions. However, her focus was solely on her tea, and her pedipalps were making it difficult for her to properly grip her tea cup. It continually slipped from her grasp, landing upon the saucer with a faint  _ clink _ !

She seemed done with it after she nearly dropped it for the fifth time. Instead, Scorpia met his gaze again. “Y’know, Shadow Weaver said you and Horde Prime looked alike—”

“Siblings tend to, yes,” Hec-Tor said dryly as he gently swirled the tea around in his own cup, watching fragrant steam rise off the surface.

“I just meant it’s really striking,” Scorpia continued. “You and him even have the same eyes.”

Hec-Tor choked on his tea when he tasted the tang of blood and felt it running down from his nasal ridge. Hastily, he lowered his cup, hoping he hadn’t just spilled tea down his front like a toddler.

“Are you alright?” Queen Glimmer asked, and unlike the first time she had spoken, now she didn’t seem accusatory. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the blood running down his face. “Oh my god—”

“They’re chronic, unfortunately,” Hec-Tor muttered as he reached out to grab the nearest napkin in an attempt to stave off the bleeding. His ears were burning beneath his ear ornamentation, but he hoped the Etherians didn’t notice that. “But I will be fine.”

Queen Glimmer looked unsure, setting her cup down on the saucer in front of her. She flinched at the sound it made, but took a deep breath and forced composure back onto her face. “Alright…  _ so _ ,” she finally said. “We know very little of the universe, Prince Hec-Tor.”

“Entrapta implied as much,” Hec-Tor said as he mopped up the last of the blood—it had soaked through the napkin, staining the cloth a deep shade of blue, but thankfully, none of it had ended up on the front of his dress. An Attendant came forward and took the napkin from him without a word, disappearing from the room.

Hec-Tor noticed how Queen Glimmer and Scorpia both watched the Attendant with trepidation, and his ears flicked in confusion. Surely the Attendants meant them no harm…

“She said that you had been trapped in a shadow dimension,” Hec-Tor continued, drawing their attention back to him.

“Well, yes, but—” Queen Glimmer paused, and there was a crease to her brow. Hec-Tor was still finding it difficult to differentiate Etherian emotions without mobile ears, though. Still, there was nothing in her tone that suggested anger. “I just meant that surely you have seen plenty of interesting things.”

“My brother would have seen far more of the empire than I have, your Majesty,” he admitted. “I have never set foot off the  _ Velvet Glove _ … my brother and I transferred our lives here when I was an infant, after Anillis ascended to the throne.”

The Etherians stared at him in… well, shock, he supposed. Neither of them said anything in response to his admission, and he shifted uncomfortably beneath their stares.

“Anillis says that the universe is dangerous and unpredictable, and it is far safer for me to remain here,” Hec-Tor explained, although he purposefully omitted  _ why _ he was far safer on the  _ Velvet Glove _ . Prime had already gone to great lengths to keep his medical history a secret from outsiders. Hec-Tor wasn’t about to let it slip so easily. Them seeing one of his nosebleeds was more than enough.

“… that sounds lonely,” Scorpia said, and there was a flash of sadness—or perhaps pity—in her eyes. “I was one of the youngest of Shadow Weaver’s wards, but there were plenty of us running around at Mystacor. Couldn’t get a moment to yourself—oh it was great! I used to spend all day with… with…”

She abruptly trailed off, and what excitement she had felt appeared to give way to something else entirely. Out of the corner of her eye, she peered at Queen Glimmer, her mouth setting in an uncomfortable, hard line. “I—I guess it doesn’t matter, in the end… there’s still plenty of us there, so…”

Queen Glimmer frowned, but said nothing in response.

One of Hec-Tor’s ears tilted in confusion as he glanced between the two of them. He knew little of the intricacies of the Etherian Civil War, but he was beginning to understand the basics. While he had been aware it was an ongoing conflict, now he thought that perhaps it spanned at least two generations. Queen Glimmer was much too young to have been fighting against Shadow Weaver for long… and with the way Scorpia was speaking, something had happened recently that had shaken the foundations of Shadow Weaver’s side of things.

He opened his mouth, a question about their quarrel lingering on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of asking. He knew from experience that prodding at open wounds had a tendency to make people snap—even if those wounds should have long since closed.

“… it was lonely, yes,” Hec-Tor said instead, and he must have been frowning without realizing it. When the Etherians glanced back at him, they seemed to have forgotten he was sitting there and were startled by his presence.

Hec-Tor’s ears gave an anxious flutter at the sides of his head, and he dropped his gaze back to his tea. “I—I actually have a couple of questions?” he said, hoping to shift his attention away from his living situation. Even if he wasn’t permitted to speak with Entrapta until further notice, Prime had made no such stipulation about the other Etherians.

Queen Glimmer’s expression hardened again. “… what kind of questions?”

“Oh, they’re simple really. Entrapta mentioned something she called the Heart of Etheria,” Hec-Tor said, his ears perking. “It sounded absolutely fascinating, a true marvel of engineering… one of her hypotheses was that it was somehow connected to the Guardian!”

“… the what?” Queen Glimmer repeated, and neither she nor Scorpia appeared to have any idea what he was talking about.

Hec-Tor cleared his throat awkwardly, realizing his error. He remembered that Entrapta had referred to the Guardian as something else, but couldn’t remember the name at the moment. All that mattered in the end was the sword anyway. “Oh, forgive me, I forgot you might not call them that,” he said, shaking his head quickly. “There is a story—well, it’s more of a fairytale, really—that is often told to young pups before they go to bed. It mentions a vanished planet, and the guardian that protects it from those who wish to use the planet’s magic for nefarious purposes. Does that sound familiar?”

“More familiar than you probably realize,” Queen Glimmer muttered under her breath. Hec-Tor wasn’t even sure she realized he heard her, but he decided to ignore her.

“Now, Anillis doesn’t believe in such things… I, however, am open to suggestion,” Hec-Tor continued. “When Entrapta spoke of the Guardian, she mentioned that they had a physical sword, but there is no mention of such a sword in the tale… at least, not directly.”

“What do you mean?” Scorpia asked—unlike Queen Glimmer, she actually seemed to be listening to him intently.

“I have extensively studied this story, and most of the very early transcriptions only mention  _ ethereal _ weapons, but not a sword in specific,” Hec-Tor explained, before leaning forward in his seat. His ears were twitching in barely contained excitement at the thought of one of his favorite childhood mysteries finally having answers. “So, the question is, do either of  _ you  _ know anything about this sword? Entrapta mentioned that she hadn’t seen it since your planet emerged from that shadow dimension.”

To his surprise—given the lingering vitriol between the two of them—Scorpia and Queen Glimmer exchanged a tentative glance. Neither of them said anything for a moment, but their gazes were intense. It was like watching the High Aurora and his brother right before they got into a heated argument over a conference call.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Scorpia questioned.

Queen Glimmer’s eyes widened the size of saucers and she quickly shook her head, trying to shush her.

Scorpia, however, didn’t seem keen on listening. “I mean, you’re one of her new friends, so if anybody knows where the sword is—”

“Would you be quiet?!” Queen Glimmer hissed with enough venom that Scorpia immediately went silent and flinched back in surprise.

A smile tugged at the corner of Hec-Tor’s mouth, and his ears shifted forward in interest. “… so you  _ do _ know the Guardian, then?”

“I—I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Queen Glimmer said hastily, averting her gaze and crossing her arms over her chest. “And even if I did—”

“Oh by all means, child, do continue digging your own grave,” came a low voice from the doorway, and a shiver ran up Hec-Tor’s spine as he caught the tang of acrid darkness on the roof of his mouth. Shadow Weaver glided into the room, flanked on either side by an Attendant. Their gazes were locked upon her, and both of them were tense, as though they were waiting for the opportunity to go on the defensive. In spite of that, Shadow Weaver still seemed very pleased with herself.

Her eyes roved first over the Attendants that were stationed about the room, to Queen Glimmer and Scorpia, and then finally resting upon Hec-Tor. She cocked her head to the side, and Hec-Tor shifted uncomfortably beneath her stare, his ears drawing back against the sides of his head.

“Lady Shadow Weaver,” Caduceus said as he stepped forward and lingered at Hec-Tor’s side, half-blocking him from view. Then, he dipped his head in what might have been taken for reverence. “To what do we owe the honor of your company?”

“My meeting with Horde Prime has concluded,” Shadow Weaver said, although there was a certain edge to her voice that suggested she didn’t think he should have spoken at all. Her gaze didn’t stray from Hec-Tor, and she dipped into the makings of a respectful bow without breaking eye contact. “Good afternoon, your Highness.”

“… you were meeting with my brother?” Hec-Tor repeated, before he could stop himself.  _ That _ was the meeting that Prime had deemed to be of the utmost importance?

However, Shadow Weaver didn’t answer. Her gaze shifted away instead, locking upon Scorpia. “Come now, my dear. We are leaving.”

While there was nothing in her tone that suggested she was angry, it didn’t escape Hec-Tor’s notice that Scorpia’s entire posture stiffened at her guardian’s words. However, rather than argue with Shadow Weaver, Scorpia merely forced a tight smile and rose from her seat. Her tea was left abandoned in its cup, and she and Shadow Weaver began making their way to the door.

“And what if I was not done speaking to her?” Hec-Tor asked as he rose from his seat.

A dark chuckle rose in the back of Shadow Weaver’s throat as she cast a glance over her shoulder, meeting his gaze again. “If you mean to command me, boy, you would do well to learn how to emulate your brother  _ properly _ … then I might consider humoring you.” When she dipped her head again, it came off as mocking, and her jaw moved in such a way that Hec-Tor figured she must have been smirking at him behind her mask. “A pleasure to see you again, your Highness.”

And then she disappeared from the room with Scorpia scurrying along after her like a shadow.

“… she is  _ so _ creepy,” Queen Glimmer said after a moment—seemingly without realizing she had said it at all. She stiffened and glanced at Hec-Tor as though she was worried that he’d be somehow offended by what she had just said.

Hec-Tor’s ears merely twitched uncomfortably against the sides of his head. “We are in agreement, your Majesty.”

—

When Queen Glimmer’s father requested her nearly an hour later, Hec-Tor was all too happy to let her leave. He hadn’t been making any kind of headway with her anyway, and had been growing worried that his continued prodding would eventually result in her trying to bite his head off in retaliation. She had held firm and refused to give up any information, despite knowing that Hec-Tor was well aware that she was withholding important information.

He tried to push that to the back of his mind, not wanting to be in a bad mood when he saw his brother. Caduceus led him through the halls of the  _ Velvet Glove _ once again, keeping his strides short enough that Hec-Tor didn’t have to trot to keep up with him. As they neared the door to the throne room, Caduceus lightly rested his hand between Hec-Tor’s shoulder blades, giving him an encouraging nudge in the direction of the palm scanner that sat beside the door.

Unlike all the others aboard the ship—save the ones to his bedroom and sanctum—this one easily opened beneath his touch, and the doors slid open for him with a faint  _ hiss _ , revealing his brother’s throne room.

The room itself was half in shadow, although it was not without light. On the ceiling, far above Hec-Tor’s head, deep purple and blue light danced together, swirling and dipping along the walls, and the floor was polished black marble, reflecting the light back as it clearly marked the path to the base of the dais. Both details were meant to mimic the biolumiscent caverns of their homeworld, Vampyrus. While Hec-Tor had never been there, he had seen pictures, and he thought that whoever had designed his brother’s throne room had mimicked the caverns very well.

There were only a few steps leading up to where the throne sat, although when Hec-Tor was younger, the throne had seemed much taller than that. The throne itself was extravagant—tall, mimicking the wings of their clan’s crest, stretching up towards the ceiling. Behind it were the screens that his brother often used for business, which looked like one of the windows of the cathedrals that stood amongst the caverns of the Oasis of Auroras.

And pacing back and forth across the dais was Prime, who stood tall in some of his nicest silks, his diadem spanning out from his head like rays of sunlight.

“—far too important for nothing to be done,” Prime was saying.

Hec-Tor frowned and his ears pricked as he listened, lingering at the bottom of the stairs. His brother was usually only set to pacing when he was especially frazzled. Most often that was either because Hec-Tor had seemingly taken a turn for the worse or because the High Aurora had said something he didn’t agree with. However, Hec-Tor could see the conference call Prime was currently in, and the High Aurora did not appear to be present. Instead, it was members of the council of governors who made day-to-day decisions back on Vampyrus.

“We still have not been able to get into contact with them, your Grace,” one of the governors said, and she seemed to be rather exasperated, judging by the set of her ears. Her bright yellow eyes had narrowed to slits. “They were hit by a CME, it will take time to—”

“A what?” Prime cut in.

Hec-Tor spoke up before he could stop himself. “A coronal mass ejection, Anillis,” he said as he carefully climbed the stairs and came to stand beside Prime. And then, noticing Prime’s confusion hadn’t abated, he added, “It is a type of solar wind—their sun must have emitted one strong enough to knock their energy grids completely offline.”

Prime sighed, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers. “And how long would that take to fix?”

“Depending on the surge and how much damage there was? They would have been hit by several million joules of energy…” Hec-Tor said, his ears flicking as he thought. “It could take years.”

Another governor scoffed, rolling her luminous blue eyes. Hec-Tor caught a flash of her bright blue teeth as her lip curled back in disdain. “It is a penal colony anyway, your Grace.”

Prime smiled one of his tight smiles—which he only did when his patience was beginning to wear thin. However, Hec-Tor knew that he wouldn’t allow himself to yell, lest he caused some sort of incident with a noble clan of Vampyrus. Hec-Tor was reasonably sure the blue-eyed governor was the head of the Clan Lux.

“On the contrary,” Prime said. “I have found a use for many of the plants in the jungles that cover the planet’s surface.”

The head of Clan Lux quirked one of her ears. “Yes, for their… ‘medicinal properties’, if I am not mistaken?”

“Which is why it is imperative that the production line isn’t halted,” Prime stressed.

Hec-Tor frowned. “But what about the people—”

“I’ll be with you in a moment, Hec-Tor,” Prime said, and one of his ears flicked in the direction of the throne, which was turned around to face the screen instead of the doors at the far end of the throne room.

Although Hec-Tor opened his mouth to argue, he immediately thought better of it. Instead, he crossed the dais and plopped down on the throne, settling against one of the arm rests and letting his hands rest in his laps. While his gaze averted to his lap, however, his ears remained trained on the discussion happening mere feet away.

“We shall reconvene in a few hours,” Prime was saying, and there was an edge to his voice, as though he was not pleased by how this meeting had gone. “Let us hope that we make  _ actual _ headway then?”

The governors on the other end of the line said nothing, but Hec-Tor noticed how they averted their eyes and dipped their heads before the transmission cut out. Their faces were replaced by several documents that Prime had left up on the screen. While Hec-Tor was too far away to make out the script clearly, they looked important. Reports from the front lines of the Lepus Campaign, if he had to hazard a guess. While his brother had listened to him, and put the improvements for the shock troopers through, it would still be several weeks before the results could show through.

“You did not have to end your meeting for me if it was truly as important,” Hec-Tor said softly.

Prime flicked his ears dismissively as he strode back over to the throne and collapsed there, lounging against the opposite arm rest and crossing one leg over the other at the knee—the seat was just big enough for the two of them to sit together comfortably. “It is imperative that such matters be dealt with a timely manner… for your sake.”

Hec-Tor actually laughed at that. “For  _ my _ sake?” he repeated. “Surely a planet-wide energy grid collapse is more important than a single Imperial Prince. It is pointless to waste faithful subjects just because you can.”

“It is for your sake because Actius Luna is where many of the plants your medication is derived from are grown,” Prime said stiffly. “And there is absolutely  _ nothing _ that I am not willing to sacrifice so that you might one day be whole, little one.”

Hec-Tor said nothing, awkwardly fiddling with the edge of sleeve. He only glanced up when he felt his brother lightly nudge his calf with the toe of his boot.

“But enough talk about such  _ dreary _ topics,” Prime said with a dismissive twitch of his ears. A languid smile had appeared on his features, taking away the long look that had previously been there. “I was not expecting you for another half-hour. Had I known you would be here early, I would have had refreshments waiting.”

Before Hec-Tor could actually argue—he still hadn’t regained his appetite after the meeting with the Etherians and the surprise appearance of Shadow Weaver—Prime had already snapped his fingers, and an Attendant hurried forward to fulfill Prime’s request.

“Wine. Something light,” Prime ordered in a curt tone, without even looking at the Attendant. “And a tart, perhaps?”

It was a question that was directed at Hec-Tor, and he wordlessly nodded, even though he wasn’t actually hungry. The Attendant bowed low at the waist, and then disappeared from the throne room, striding past where his fellow guard was still standing at the base of the dais with Caduceus.

“Did the Etherians bore you so easily, Hec-Tor?” Prime said, almost teasingly, as though he hadn’t just ordered an Attendant away for food without missing a beat.

“Queen Glimmer’s father requested her presence,” Hec-Tor explained. “We had run out of thing to talk about, so I decided to cut the meeting short.”

Prime peered at him, resting his chin atop the back of his hand. “And did you enjoy your time with them?

“I did not realize that Queen Glimmer would be so young,” Hec-Tor admitted. “She doesn’t look much older than you would have been when…” he trailed off, noticing how his brother’s expression hardened as he nearly brought up the death of their father. “… when—when you ascended, I mean.”

“The little queen is young, yes,” Prime said. “Her youth is why I am amazed she managed to hold her own against Shadow Weaver for so long.”

Hec-Tor’s ears twitched uneasily at the mention of the witch, but he said nothing and instead focused on Queen Glimmer. “Perhaps… perhaps she had assistance?”

Prime’s ears perked straight up. “How do you figure?”

“She and Scorpia do not seem to be on the best of terms,” Hec-Tor said, tilting on his ears uncertainly. “Scorpia nearly mentioned someone—another ward perhaps? I—I think she might be the Guardian, the wielder of the sword from the stories.”

Although Prime rolled his eyes at the mention of the Vanishing Planet, he decided not to focus on it. “And did you get a name?”

Hec-Tor shook his head. “Once Lady Shadow Weaver came to collect Scorpia, I couldn’t get Queen Glimmer to talk to me anymore.”

Prime hummed softly, tapping his talons against the arm rest he was lounging back against.

“I—I have also found no mentions of First One’s tech in the Archives,” Hec-Tor continued. “I meant to ask Scorpia and Queen Glimmer about that as well but… um… I would like to request the original writings, from some of the Primes of Old. I believe Horde Prime Livia the First would be a good place to start. Most of her writings are too degraded to read properly.

Prime’s ears gave a twitch of sardonic amusement. “Well, she was the Prime who made first contact with the Eternians of Old, nearing fifteen hundred years ago.”

“Well, I would like to perform transliteration, if possible,” Hec-Tor said, his own ears twitching irritably. “But I need the original writings from the Capital Archives.”

After a moment of contemplation, Prime dipped his head before he rose from his seat and made his way forward, peering at the screen that had been left alight, just in front of them. “Have your Minder fill out a requisition for everything you need. I shall see to it personally.”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a nervous twitch. “You’re leaving?”

“With a heavy heart, little one—you know how I always  _ dread _ leaving you—but yes,” Prime said over his shoulder, his tone almost apologetic. “I have been called back to Vampyrus by High Aurora Alekos. They demanded I be present to oversee the blessing of the newest cathedral, so the caverns may bask in my light.”

Despite his dry tone, Hec-Tor knew that his brother took his duties to the Order of Eternal Light very seriously. It was the duty of the Horde Prime to be a god amongst mortals—a living embodiment of light—and so, a Prime was sworn to answer when the Auroras called. His brother always had, and if Hec-Tor ever ascended to the throne, the same weight would be taken upon his own shoulders. However, he tried not to linger on such thoughts, as he didn’t particularly find joy in the thought of something happening to his brother that would necessitate his ascension.

“… and what of the Etherians?” Hec-Tor asked, trying to push thoughts of ascension from his head.

“Oh, you need not fear them, little one,” Prime said, sounding rather amused as he flicked one of his ears dismissively. The eight-pointed star charm that hung from his ear clasp was sent swaying by the motion. “I have the Etherians well in hand. They would never dream of moving against an Imperial Prince.”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth again, but his voice had become caught in his throat. The Etherians were far different than the images he had built up in his head of brutish shades, taller than his brother and twice as broad in the shoulders. Not a single one was taller than Hec-Tor was himself—even though he was, by all accounts, short for a Pyrian and had never filled out properly on account of his poor health. They certainly were nowhere near as tall as his brother, who stood an entire head taller than Hec-Tor did, even without the heels he often favored.

And yet, despite his brother’s assumption, Hec-Tor did not  _ fear _ the Etherians, even if they did unnerve and confuse him.

Entrapta, for instance, had been nothing but kind to him during their very short interactions—too short, in his opinion. Hec-Tor had never met someone with so much energy and enthusiasm for their work, and during those few minutes he had had with her in his sanctum, he had found her manner rather infectious. And then, the tips of his ears dusted blue as he recalled that morning, when she had stumbled into his room and accidentally saw him in his nightgown, even if she hadn’t seemed to notice her grievous breach in etiquette. He quickly willed the memory away. Entrapta was odd, yes, but he still had yet to find a reason to fear her, unlike his brother, who remained convinced that she was some sort of shade out to harm him.

Queen Glimmer and Scorpia were different—interacting with them had felt different. Though they had been unkind, Hec-Tor had still found them very difficult to read, and the only information he had managed to get from them had been the barest of hints to who the owner of the sword had been. He didn’t understand why Queen Glimmer was so eager to withhold such information, given how important it was. And then there was his confusion over why they seemed to have been uncomfortable around him. He had done nothing to them, and he was certain that his brother had been very courteous towards them as well. Prime always made their guests feel welcome…

While Hec-Tor knew that the Etherians would be sequestered to the Guest Wing for the duration of their stay—however long that might have been—he still did not like the idea of them being aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ while his brother was away. His hands curled into fists in his lap, talons biting into the pristine white silk of his skirts.

“… Anillis… can I not—” he began, and his voice was meeker than he had meant for it to be—the voice of a pup, not an Imperial Prince.

“No, you cannot,” Prime said sternly as he turned his head just enough that the eyes above and below his right could peer at Hec-Tor. “And I expect you to continue entertaining Queen Glimmer and Princess Scorpia while I am gone, little one.”

Hec-Tor frowned, his ears twitching in confusion against the sides of his skull. “What do you hope to gain from that?” he asked as his brow furrowed.

“While Lady Shadow Weaver has been most forthcoming, I suspect she is harboring her own secrets,” Prime said, and Hec-Tor caught the edge of his smirk. “I know the little queen and her father certainly are.”

At the mere mention of Lady Shadow Weaver, Hec-Tor’s stomach rolled. Now  _ there _ was an Etherian whom he feared. He was surprised his brother had even allowed her to board the  _ Velvet Glove _ in the first place, much less spend time with her of his own volition. She moved like a shade birthed straight from the Void and the acrid stench of darkness followed her whenever she went. But Hec-Tor suspected her being the leader of one side of the Etherian civil conflict had something to do with it. She was powerful, and his brother tended to be drawn to those like her, for better or worse.

“… so I am to entertain that witch as well?” Hec-Tor asked.

“Light above, Hec-Tor,  _ no _ !” Prime said sharply as he half-turned away from the screen before him, pressing his fingers together at the tips. His natural eyes had narrowed in the makings of irritation. “Think before you speak, will you?”

“I would be able to think more easily if you actually explained what you meant,” Hec-Tor retorted.

Prime let out a deep breath through his nasal ridge. “Mind your tongue, Hec-Tor. You are not a lowborn pup,” he said mildly as he approached Hec-Tor where he still sat, curled up against the arm of the throne. Hec-Tor had to lean his head back to maintain eye contact, his brother was so tall. “Now then, Princess Scorpia is  _ whose _ ward?”

“… Lady Shadow Weaver’s,” Hec-Tor said, after a moment of hesitation. When his brother’s ears gave an expectant flick, Hec-Tor continued. “Which means that she could let something slip by accident… even if Lady Shadow Weaver is attempting to hide it?”

The languid smirk returned to Prime’s features. “Precisely,” he said in a cool, almost saccharine tone. “Now do you see why I arranged for you to have tea with Queen Glimmer and Princess Scorpia in my place? And you did a  _ marvelous _ job of it.”

Hec-Tor fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, averting his gaze back to his lap. Even if he had picked up information, he hadn’t done so intentionally. He had merely picked up what they had been willing to divulge. “I am no spy, Anillis, nor am I a liar.”

Prime could only scoff. “Oh, come now, Hec-Tor. You don’t think the Etherians wouldn’t do the same to  _ you _ at the earliest convenience?” he questioned. “Politics is the realm of liars. It is merely a matter of being the best at your trade.”

“I am more comfortable in my s—my lab,” Hec-Tor confessed. “Would I not be better suited there, working alongside Princess Entrapta?”

Prime’s lip curled into a sneer at the mention of her. “As I recall, I said you were not to meet with her again until that sword she was prattling on about had been found.”

Hec-Tor kept his gaze trained on his lap. “I… I actually wanted to know if it has been located yet?”

“The first spire ship touched down only hours ago, little one,” Prime said. “It could be days before they find it, wherever it might be hiding on that rock.”

Before Hec-Tor could answer, one of his brother’s ears swiveled in the direction of the doors to the throne room, as the Attendant Prime had sent to fetch refreshments finally returned to them, carrying a tray with a pitcher of wine alongside a beautifully decorated fruit tart.

Prime sighed. “ _ Finally _ ,” he said, returning to his seat against the opposite arm rest of the throne, crossing one leg over the other at the knee. He wordlessly took the wine glass from the Attendant when it was offered, and the Attendant moved on without expecting any response.

Hec-Tor awkwardly took the matching wine glass when it was offered, clutching it in both hands. Then, before the Attendant could walk away to set down the tray, he managed, “Thank you.”

The Attendant paused, glanced over his shoulder at Hec-Tor, and gave a small smile, but ultimately said nothing in response as he returned to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: _interlude i — prince of the spire_
> 
> so, when i was originally planning this au back in dec '19, i only intended on writing on fic, and that fic was only supposed to be about four chapters. as you can probably tell, the au ended up getting away from me a little bit. however, i was also working off of about five minutes of screen time for what the galactic horde was like, and i assumed we'd get worldbuilding in S5, so i didn't really solidify my worldbuilding as much as i would have otherwise. i admit that this is probably to the detriment of _where one fell_ , and i'd love to go back and tweak some of the prose one day to bring it more in line with this fic's worldbuilding, but eh, you live and learn.
> 
> because i didn't begin writing this fic until after S5 dropped, however, there ended up being stuff that i could pluck from canon and tweak to become actual workable worldbuilding for my au. hence the pyrian religion.
> 
> the idea behind it is that it is essentially the religion the cult in canon was based upon, that actually existed at one point in the past, but canon prime completely bastardized its teachings when he came to power. if you want to get _really_ technical, i'd probably place canon prime as either Anillis I or Anillis IV on my lineage list for the kur dynasty (because yes, i have an entire list of previous primes as well as their order in the succession, split between "pre-eternian collapse" and "post-eternian collapse", i was really thorough for this au), but for simplicity's sake, i guess it really doesn't matter much.
> 
> anywho! the idea was that pyrians evolved as a subterranean species, because the surface of vampyrus is basically tattooine. it's an inhospitable desert, and so life is centered around oases that let into expansive bioluminscent cave systems. all of the major cities are centered around these oases, and are still mostly underground despite the invention of solar shields that allow for more living upon the surface. this is why the iconography of their religion is so heavily based around light. they basically revere it, while having a tentative respect for the shadows that are cast by it.


	4. Interlude I - The Prince of the Spire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for a shorter chapter this time folks! only 7k this time around.

Hec-Tor cautiously poked his head around the corner, his little ears perking and shifting forward as he listened to the hallway around him intently. He didn’t catch a hint of his Minders anywhere in the vicinity, even though they must have noticed him missing by now. His ears gave an excited flutter as he crept out from his hiding place and hurried over to the floor-to-ceiling window that looked out over the cosmos. Starlight streamed in, leaving the newly polished marble floors glittering around him. Hec-Tor wasn’t actually sure what sector the  _ Velvet Glove _ was currently in—neither Anillis nor his Minders would actually tell him—but he knew that it must have been quite a ways from the Expansion Edge. His brother would have never brought him here if there was an active conflict going on.

Anillis had always insisted that the world outside the  _ Velvet Glove _ was chaotic, disorderly, and dangerous… but Hec-Tor thought it was one of the most beautiful places he had ever seen.

In his palm, Trinket out of a soft chirping sound, as she looked out the window alongside him. Hec-Tor carefully held her out, closer to the glass so that she could see better. He was big enough now that he could hold Trinket using only one hand, and she balanced there easily, peering out into the stars with her bright red ocular processor.

With his other hand, Hec-Tor reached up and began tracing one of the constellations he recognized. “I think that might be  _ Lyra _ …”

_ Bwip _ !

“Judging by its position, I think we might be near the Niidae sector,” Hec-Tor continued, even though he wasn’t certain that Trinket even understood what he was saying. However, it didn’t feel right to just… ignore her, so he always made a point to include her in the conversation.

He continued staring out the window, his bright red eyes wide with wonder. One day, when he was well enough, he wanted to explore it—all of it. From their home planet of Vampyrus, with the Oasis of Auroras, to the many other planets that his brother had brought into the fold. He could spent decades learning about other technology and dissecting it to figure out how it worked. And if his brother was still worried, he could take his Minders with him. Nothing bad would ever happen to him so long as his Minders were around to protect him.

“Hec-Tor?! Hec-Tor, where are—”

One of Hec-Tor’s ears swiveled in the direction the shout had come from, and when he turned his head to look, he found that one of his Minders—Kurok—was hurrying down the hallway towards him. When he finally reached Hec-Tor, he immediately dropped to a knee and began checking Hec-Tor over, as though Hec-Tor hadn’t merely been walking down the hallway of his brother’s flagship. Kurok’s hood had pooled around the base of his neck, and his crest was also an utter wreck, sticking up at odd angles instead of perfectly smoothed back. He hadn’t noticed either imperfection of his appearance yet—Hec-Tor almost hoped he didn’t.

Kurok sighed in relief, running his hand over his crest, although it did little to help. “By the Light, don’t scare me like that,” he said, concern lacing his tone. “What has Ninety-Nine told you about running off?”

Hec-Tor frowned and turned his gaze back to the stars. “Nan worries too much.”

“He worries just enough,” Kurok retorted, although there was no real bite in his voice. Taking a deep breath, he rose back to his feet, towering over Hec-Tor. Carefully, he began attempting to straighten his crest, even though it would have been easier to pull his hood up. While that would have hidden the majority of his features from view, the Minders usually didn’t wear their hoods up unless Anillis was around. Hec-Tor didn’t mind seeing their faces, though, and he didn’t understand why the hoods were necessary in the first place.

“Sixty-Six!” Another voice came from around the bend, followed by rapid footsteps. Hec-Tor immediately recognized it as Nan’s voice, and he sounded haggard, like he had been running for a while. “Did you find him?!”

“He’s right here,” Kurok said, now fully calmed.

Nan slid to a halt as he came around the corner. Somehow, despite his running, Nan’s appearance was still immaculate—not a hair was out of place. Like Kurok, his hood was pooled at the base of his neck, so the only notable difference between the two of them was the scarring on the left side of Nan’s face. He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, appearing much calmer than he had just a moment before.

A soft smile appeared on his features as he knelt down in front of Hec-Tor and began checking him over, as though he actually expected Hec-Tor to have been hurt. “Are you alright, Hec-Tor?” he asked, lightly rubbing a smudge of dirt off of Hec-Tor’s cheek.

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Hec-Tor insisted, tugging his jaw out of Nan’s gentle grasp. He hadn’t even gone that far, and it wasn’t as though he could have gotten out of the Imperial Wing on his own. The palm scanners to the elevators were all locked, meaning the only way he could have gotten out was if he was accompanied by an escort. Besides, as far as he knew, his brother didn’t even have any guests at the moment, and guests were always restricted to the Guest Wing. They were always accompanied by Attendants, just like Hec-Tor always had at least one of his Minders with him.

Nan clicked his tongue in that way he always did when disapproved of something. “I  _ just _ fixed your hair, Hec-Tor. How did you already get so rumpled?” he said, although there was no bite to his tone. He reached out and began trying to fix Hec-Tor’s hair, making it lay back flat against the top of his head like it was supposed to.

Hec-Tor bore the fussing, even though he wanted nothing more than to squirm away. Over Nan’s shoulder, however, he caught Kurok’s ears twitching and him trying to hide a grin behind a fist, as if Nan fussing over Hec-Tor was one of the most amusing things he had seen in awhile. Hec-Tor stuck out his tongue at Kurok, and Kurok was quick to mirror him.

One of Nan’s ears twitched and then swiveled in Kurok’s direction. “Sixty-Six,” Nan began in a stern tone. “I will deal with your crest in a moment, once I am finished with Hec-Tor.”

The amusement immediately fell from Kurok’s face, and he grimaced exactly like Hec-Tor usually did when he was annoyed by something.

“If you act like a pup, I’ll treat you like one,” Nan said, casting a warning look over his shoulder before turning his full attention back to Hec-Tor. Once Hec-Tor’s hair was fixed to Nan’s satisfaction, he turned to Hec-Tor’s dress, checking him over for any dirt he might have picked up in the few minutes he had been out from under Nan’s ever-watchful eye. The dress that Hec-Tor was currently wearing was one that Nan had somehow managed to save after Hec-Tor had gotten oil on it while fiddling with Trinket.

“I’m  _ fine, _ Nan,” Hec-Tor insisted, managing to wriggle out of Nan’s hold. He cupped his hands around Trinket, and she let out a soft chirp, drawing the attention of both of his Minders.

“Hec-Tor, you know you’re not supposed to bring Trinket out of the Creche,” Kurok said gently as he crouched down beside Nan. Then, he held out his hand, wordlessly asking for the little battle bot to be turned over to him.

Hec-Tor hesitated—he knew that he wasn’t supposed to bring her everywhere, since Anillis didn’t particularly like seeing her, but he thought it was sad she had to stay cooped up in the Creche all the time. “I just want to show her the stars,” he said, even though it was a very poor excuse. He could have shown her the stars back in the Creche.

Kurok and Nan exchanged a short glance, before Kurok smiled again. “You can show her later, once we’re back in the Creche,” he said, before indicating to his outstretched hand with his ears. “Now, come on… give her here.”

“You have to promise to take care of her,” Hec-Tor said with a frown.

“With my life,” Kurok said, dipping his head.

Only then did Hec-Tor carefully transfer Trinket into the flat of Kurok’s palm—his hand was far larger than Hec-Tor’s, so she had more room to scuttle around. Kurok gently rubbed the top of her outer casing with his thumb, and then slowly rose to his feet. Nan, however, remained crouched.

“I want to see Anillis now!” Hec-Tor insisted.

Nan’s gaze softened and one of his ears gave a twitch of amusement. “Very well,” he said, rising back to his feet and offering Hec-Tor his hand. “But no running off this time. You are better behaved than that.”

Hec-Tor took Nan’s hand without complaint. Nan began leading him along the hall, heading back in the direction they had just come from, while Kurok fell in step behind them, his ears pricked for any signs of danger. Hec-Tor thought it was rather silly… what were the chances of someone making it this far into the ship to get a hold of him? They would have come across dozens of Attendants in that time, and Anillis always insisted that the Imperial Wing was the safest place aboard the ship. That was why Hec-Tor very rarely left it.

Light danced across the polished marble floors as they made their way through the halls. The only sounds around them were the soft, omnipresent hum of the  _ Velvet Glove _ ’s life support system, and the whisper of fabric across the tile, from the trains of their skirts. Hec-Tor, however, grew confused as they approached the entrance to the Imperial Wing. This was not their usual route, and Hec-Tor had a pretty good grasp on his brother’s schedule.

“Is Anillis not in his study?” Hec-Tor asked in confusion, looking up at Nan. It was just after lunch, and he was supposed to be having tea with his brother soon, but Anillis was always in his study for most of the afternoon, going over reports and requisition forms and things like that.

“He is in the gardens, my Prince,” Nan said, as Kurok wordlessly stepped around them and laid the hand that wasn’t cradling Trinket upon the palm scanner beside the elevator. When the door opened a moment later, they filed in, and Kurok pressed the button that would let them out on the floor where all of the entrainment spaces were—the throne room was located on that level, as was the large room where Anillis held his galas every few months.

Anillis had always said that being invited to a gala held aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ was an honor, but Hec-Tor had never been to one, much as he longed to be allowed to go. However, Anillis had been planning one recently. Hec-Tor knew because he had overhead Anillis speaking to an Attendant at dinner a couple of nights ago, he had seen a couple sheets of paper that had to have been requisition forms for preparations. When he had later asked Nan about it, after dinner, his Minder had said that the gala was a minor celebration.

He  _ really _ wanted to go to this one, and he had been trying to work up the courage to ask his brother for permission, in spite of Anillis’s previous dismissiveness. Such events were dangerous, or so Anillis had always claimed, but Hec-Tor wasn’t scared. He wasn’t a pup anymore, and soon his masking would start coming in, and his brother would be there anyway.

Anillis would never let anything happen to him.

The door let them out onto the floor, and Nan immediately steered them in the direction of the gardens. As they approached the large doors, however, Kurok stopped in his stride.

“This is where I leave you,” he said, dipping his head.

Hec-Tor pouted, clutching that much tighter to Nan’s hand. “Why?”

Kurok, however, was smiling warmly. “Zero-Ten requires my help in the Creche,” he said simply before he motioned to the doors with a flick of his ears. “You will be safe with Horde Prime and Na—and—and Ninety-Nine.”

“Oh…” Hec-Tor mumbled, disappointed. He had been hoping to play with Kurok in the gardens… Nan didn’t really like running around after him like Kurok often did.

“Oh, chin up, Hec-Tor,” Kurok said, tilting his head to the side. “When you are done here, I will come and fetch you so I can escort you and Ninety-Nine back to the Creche.”

“Can you bring Trinket?” Hec-Tor asked hopefully.

Kurok glanced down at the little battle bot that was still perched in his palm, and lightly stroked the top of her outer casing. “If that is what you want,” he said, and the way he said it made it clear it was a promise. Then, he turned away and disappeared back down the hallway.

“Come, Hec-Tor,” Nan said as he carefully pulled his hood back over his head, tucking his ears away beneath the fabric. Then, he gave the lightest of tugs on Hec-Tor’s arm to urge him forward again. “Horde Prime awaits… and you had something you wanted to ask him, yes?”

When Hec-Tor noticed the knowing sparkle in Nan’s eyes, he immediately smiled and took the lead, practically dragging Nan along behind as they made their way through the doors. The moment they entered the gardens, the scent of earth and rain hit the roof of Hec-Tor’s mouth. It wasn’t an overwhelming smell, although it was a unique one, unlike anything else he had smelled on the ship before. Although he had visited the gardens plenty of times with his brother—it was one of Anillis’s favorite places on the  _ Velvet Glove _ —Hec-Tor rarely actually got to stay for very long.

His brother always insisted the pollen would be too harsh on his lungs. Hec-Tor felt fine, though, and there was no reason for his brother to be concerned about that. Doc had even said that moving around was much better for his lungs than sitting around the Creche all day when he actually had the energy to move. Today, he had even encouraged Hec-Tor to go, since he had been so anxious to get out and move around.

Nan said nothing as they slowly made their way along the garden’s trail. Hec-Tor could see his ears flicking beneath the fabric of his hood as he listened to their surroundings, but his gaze remained locked straight ahead.

“Where’s Anillis?” Hec-Tor asked as he hopped up onto the stones lining the edge of a mulch bed and walked along it, holding one arm out to try and maintain his balance. Nan’s gaze flicked to him for a moment, and his grip tightened on Hec-Tor’s hand, but he didn’t tell him to get down before he hurt himself like Anillis might have.

“Deeper in the gardens, tending to some of the plants,” Nan said simply as he watched Hec-Tor. “He is waiting for you, though.”

Hec-Tor nodded, although he was only half-listening. Most of his attention was on the rocks beneath his feet and maintaining his balance on them so he didn’t tumble into the mulch or out onto the grass. “Are we having tea out here?” he asked. There  _ was _ a pavilion at the center of the gardens where he and his brother would sometimes have tea or play Pyrian’s Gambit together. Although Hec-Tor was still learning the rules, and Anillis won more often than not, in a couple of years, Hec-Tor thought he might actually get good enough to win for a change.

“I cannot say,” Nan said as they rounded a corner, and he hastily added, “Watch your step.”

However, Hec-Tor maintained his balance easily, and then hopped back down onto the grass as the line of rocks came to an end. They continued further into the gardens, passing a wide variety of plants—most of which Hec-Tor didn’t actually know the names of. His brother would have known. Anillis knew  _ everything _ , especially about plants. Most of those that were planted in the gardens were flowers or shrubs, specimens that had been taken from worlds that had been brought into the fold, but there were also some that had come from their father’s flagship, the  _ Caliburnus _ . 

The trees around them reached up towards the vaulted ceiling, brushing up against the sprinkler systems that connected to the rest of the ‘hydroponics’ that ran through all of the gardens. Hec-Tor even spotted a few of the ornamental birds his brother kept that frequented the pond. Large lux cranes that glowed faintly in the shadows of the underbrush, and let out a soft little song at the sight of him and Nan, before retreating further into the shadows.

Hec-Tor spotted the pair of Attendants that accompanied his brother everywhere before he actually spotted Anillis himself. The two Attendants lingered on the edge of the mulch beds, posture perfect, staring straight ahead as they waited for orders. They only moved—in near perfect unison—as Hec-Tor and Nan approached, and dipped into low bows at the waist. Hec-Tor smiled at them, and for just a moment, their serene expressions broke, and they returned the smile with ones of their own.

Deep in the mulch bed, Anillis was crouched down beside a flowering shrub, delicately looking over the bright red and white petals of one of the flowers that had popped open. A couple of droplets of water from an earlier run of the hydroponics system still clung there. One of Anillis’s ears twitched and then swiveled in the direction of the mulch bed’s edge as he noticed Hec-Tor’s arrival.

“Just a moment, Hec-Tor,” Anillis said, but Hec-Tor barely heard him.

His hand slipped from Nan’s grasp as he darted away from his Minder, hopping over the edge of the mulch bed, ignoring how he kicked up some mud and dirtied the skirts of his dress. He latched onto Anillis’s arm as soon as he was within reach, even though one of the Attendants was carefully picking his way towards them.

“Horde Prime, allow me to remove—”

Anillis shot the Attendant a look over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing. “If I wanted your help, I would ask for it,” he said before he made a shooing motion with his ears and said not one word more.

The Attendant hesitated where he stood, seeming unsure of what to do. However, when Hec-Tor smiled at him, he finally acquiesced and bowed at the waist again before returning to the trail alongside the other Attendant and Nan.

Once the Attendant was gone, Hec-Tor looked over the plant that his brother had been caring for—a plant he didn’t know the name of, and there were too many plants with white and red mottled petals for him to make an educated guess. He leaned forward, reaching out so that he could mimic what Anillis was doing, but his brother caught hold of his wrist with a free hand and before he could.

“Careful,” Anillis said, drawing his hand back. There was a worried tone to his voice. “You’ll nick yourself on the spines…”

Hec-Tor pouted, and the tips of his ears dusted light blue. He hadn’t noticed the spines, even though now, he could pick them out amongst the leaves, where they ran along the stems of the plant like little talons. “… no I won’t.”

Anillis sighed, but there was the slightest upwards quirk at the corner of his mouth, and his ears twitched in amusement. “Oh, little one, you have far too much spirit for your own good…”

When Hec-Tor stuck out his tongue at Anillis, he actually expected his brother to scold him, insisting that it was unbecoming behavior of an Imperial Prince… but after a moment, Anillis mimicked him, and Hec-Tor could barely contain his laughter.

—

As it grew later, and Anillis continued tending to his plants, Hec-Tor was mostly left to his own thoughts—and he spent his time wandering around and looking at the plants, with Nan padding along after him. Hec-Tor knew that today would have to be the day that he finally asked if he could attend the gala. There was only so much time left before it would be too late for him to go… while he had never actually attended one before, he knew that at the very least, there would need to be time to tailor him a new dress. None of the ones in his closet were fancy enough for a gala.

However, first, he had to actually work up the nerve to ask his brother.

As he thought about how to best word his request, Hec-Tor carefully picked his way through one of the mulch beds, making his way over some of the lower lying plants. In an attempt to keep from dirtying his skirts even more than they already were, he had them gathered up in his hands. His eyes were locked onto one of the trees deeper in the bed… he wanted to see how high he could climb. While he had tried several years ago, when he had been much smaller, Anillis had caught him and told him to never do it again. Anillis had said he was going to fall and break his neck.

But a quick glance over his shoulder was enough to tell Hec-Tor that his brother wasn’t actually paying attention to what he was doing at the moment. Anillis was still on the opposite side of the trail, ears focused on the tree he was pruning, rather than listening for Hec-Tor. He would be able to get up and back before Anillis noticed what he was doing.

“What are you doing, Hec-Tor?” Nan asked softly.

Hec-Tor froze in place at the sound of his Minder’s voice, talons half-dug into the bark of the tree. He had been mere moments away from trying to climb up—and it would have been  _ easy _ , too, Pyrian talons could sink into solid rock—but he had completely forgotten that Nan was also watching him. His ears gave a nervous flutter as he glanced at Nan, who was lingering at the edge of the mulch bed, just beyond the stones.

However, Nan didn’t appear to be angry—he was merely staring at Hec-Tor with a pinched brow. “My Prince, get out of the flowerbed…” he said sternly, beckoning Hec-Tor over with a flick of his ears. His tone combined with his ear movements made it clear that he did not want to have to repeat himself. “You are going to dirty your dress.”

Hec-Tor let out an irritated huff, but did as he was told, carefully making his way through the mulch bed and back out onto the grass of the trail.

“I don’t even have an appearance today,” he grumbled, sure that his brother wouldn’t be able to hear him. Anillis was still fiddling with the branches of the  _ polan _ tree, checking over new shoots for signs of disease. “Because Anillis won’t let me do _ anything _ !”

Nan gave a soft hum of amusement as he knelt beside Hec-Tor in the grass and immediately began fussing over his appearance—straightening his skirts and sleeves before moving onto the circlet he was wearing against his forehead and the ear clasps that had been tucked over the shell of his ears earlier that morning. Finally, Nan moved onto his hair, trying his best to restraighten Hec-Tor’s messy crest so that it would lay flat again.

“For not being allowed to do  _ anything _ , you certainly find yourself in a lot of trouble,” Nan said, almost teasingly. “This is the third time today I’ve had to fix your hair, and you’ve only just had your lunch.”

Hec-Tor said nothing as Nan continued his fussing, but he did glance over to where Anillis was, still focused on the  _ polan _ tree. He watched as his brother carefully stepped over a couple of lower lying plants and gnarled roots that were in his path, making his way around the tree’s trunk to check over the branches that were more out of the way. Hec-Tor’s gaze fell back to the grass at his feet.

“… Nan?” Hec-Tor asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

“Yes, my Prince?” he said, continuing to thread his talons through Hec-Tor’s hair.

“Do… do you think I should ask _ now _ ?” Hec-Tor asked hesitantly—he had been so sure of himself, that he could manage to ask his brother if he would be allowed to attend the gala, but now his confidence was beginning to wane. A frustrated pout appeared on his features and his ears flicked downward. His talons dug into the white fabric of his skirts, threatening to tear them, even though Nan had just straightened them. “… what if Anillis says no?”

For a moment, Nan said nothing, his talons stilling in Hec-Tor’s crest of snow white hair. “Then he says no,” he said simply with a soft sigh. However, his lips did quirk upward in the making of an encouraging smile. “You won’t know until you ask…”

Hec-Tor glanced at his brother again. Anillis was frowning now, his ears twitching in annoyance as he pruned back a branch that must have been diseased. Taking a deep breath, Hec-Tor wiggled out of Nan’s grasp and trotted across the grass. He paused along the edge of the mulch bed, words leaving him as his nerve began to waver…

… and then Nan was behind him, giving him a light touch on the back, between his shoulder blades. “Go on…” he said in a soft, encouraging whisper.

Anillis sliced through another branch and scowled at his own actions. “Do you need something, Hec-Tor?” he questioned, his voice stiff as he made his way out from around the polan tree, carefully picking his way over low-lying plants and out onto the grass.

“Um…” Hec-Tor began, his ears flicking nervously as he noticed the stiffness in his brother’s tone. He wrung his hands into the fabric of his skirts. Nan lingered behind him, and bowed ever-so-slightly at the waist, resting his hands lightly atop Hec-Tor’s shoulders. He glanced back at Nan, who gave him a slight nod and small smile. The presence of his Minder was enough to get Hec-Tor to loose his tongue, and with a deep breath, he managed to find his voice.

“There’s—You—You said that there was a gala coming up soon!” he said, trying to ignore how the stutter in his voice betrayed his nervousness. He had been hoping to sound more confident, so that his brother would take him seriously. “At dinner, a couple of nights ago, I mean… I—I thought maybe I could—”

“You are far too  _ fragile _ to attend such an event, Hec-Tor,” Anillis said as he carefully contemplated the train of his skirts for any sight of lingering dirt that might have caught there while he was working with the polan tree. “What would happen if you  _ fainted _ in the middle of it?”

“But—but—” Hec-Tor cut off with a frustrated hiss as his words failed him completely. While the tips of his ears dusted blue, a determined crease appeared on his brow and his ears flattened to be nearly parallel to his shoulders. He didn’t understand why Anillis was being so stubborn about this, why he always insisted that Hec-Tor couldn’t handle attending anything. Just recently, Doc had been saying that he was improving, gaining weight, that his lungs had sounded the best they had in _ months _ . His blood results were always ‘normal’ or ‘improving’…

“I haven’t fainted in  _ weeks _ ! And D—” he paused, catching himself before he could accidentally use his Minder’s name in front of his brother. He wasn’t supposed to do that. “A-And 010-1347 said that I’m getting better!”

“Your condition being managed does mean that you are well enough to attend a gala, little one,” Anillis retorted.

Hec-Tor’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his mouth agape as he stared up at his brother. And Anillis stared back at him, his expression hard and impassive, as though he had already made up his mind and nothing that Hec-Tor said was going to convince him to allow Hec-Tor to attend the gala, much as he wanted to, much as he wanted to have fun and talk to people who weren’t his brother or his Minders for once in his life.

And then Hec-Tor’s expression hardened again.

“I’m not a pup!” he insisted—in fact, he was just the opposite. Last week, Kurok had insisted that Hec-Tor had a splotch of white forming on one of his ears, even though Hec-Tor hadn’t been able to find the splotch when he had tried looking for it himself. His masking was going to start coming in soon, and he felt  _ fine _ besides. He could figure out if he felt well enough to attend an event. “I think I can handle an hour or two at one of your… you little events!”

To Hec-Tor’s surprise, the tips of Anillis’s ears flicked in amusement beneath his ear ornamentation. The jewels dangling from his ear clasps clinked against each other, ringing like little bells. His demeanor seemed to shift rather abruptly, and his shoulders went lax.

Hec-Tor waited with baited breath—he was anticipating his brother denying him again, and he didn’t know if he would have the confidence to continue arguing with his brother if Anillis said no. He tried to think of another argument—he had been receiving lessons on court etiquette since he was far younger than he was now… that could work. While he had never really cared for such things, any more than he cared for his history lessons on battle strategies, he had paid attention enough. He could get through the event, if only his brother would let him.

“… very well,” Anillis finally said.

Although Hec-Tor hoped his surprise wasn’t obvious, he could only stare up at his brother in shock for a moment. And then, his ears perked straight up as a wide smile broke out on his features. Anillis returned Hec-Tor’s smile with a tiny one of his own.

Hec-Tor was bouncing a little bit on his toes, barely able to hold in his excitement. “You’re really letting me go?”

Anillis tilted his head, as though he was considering again. “Yes,” he said simply, before his gaze hardened again to a sternness that could have rivaled Nan. “But you are to remain within my line of sight at all times, unless 099-0783 or 066-5555 are accompanying you. They will escort you to the gala, where you will be allowed to remain for an hour or two, before being escorted back to your room. If you show any signs of a fainting spell, you will be escorted out, and if your health does not permit the day of, you will not be allowed to attend in the first place.”

Hec-Tor’s ears drooped, but he took a deep breath and tried to remind himself that it was better than nothing—that he was actually being allowed out for the first time in his life. He would be able to meet new people and talk to them… maybe some would even like to hear about his projects. He doubted that Anillis would let him bring Trinket, but he would have loved to show her off. She was the most advanced bot he had ever built.

“… okay,” he finally said, already knowing that some of the joy had left his voice.

“Oh, chin up, little one,” Anillis said in a low, soothing lilt as he knelt down in front of Hec-Tor in the grass. He reached out and lightly held Hec-Tor’s cheek in his hand, and after a moment, Hec-Tor pressed into the touch, managing a small smile. “These restrictions are for your own good… even our closest allies would take you fainting as a sign of weakness to exploit. It leaves you vulnerable, Hec-Tor. I only wish to protect you from their ire.”

Hec-Tor knew that, of course… his brother would never let anything happen to him. Even though it was disappointing that he’d have to be under constant supervision, he was certain that Anillis had his reasons.

Anillis looked away from him, his gaze flicking to Nan. “I believe it is time for Hec-Tor’s afternoon lessons, is it not?”

Nan dipped his head once and strode forward, offering Hec-Tor his hand again. “Yes, Horde Prime. I shall see him back to the Creche, as you wish.”

Hec-Tor frowned. “But you said we’d have tea together and play Pyrian’s Gambit.”

Anillis sighed deeply, his eyes narrowing. “Hec-Tor, I do not have the patience for one of your tantrums… I have already given you the opportunity to attend a gala—against my better judgement, I might add—”

“But you promised,” Hec-Tor said, his frown morphing into a pout, his ears twitching in irritation at the tips.

“Hec-Tor, I have other matters that are more—” he cut off, and hesitated, as if he was mulling over his words. “—more pressing than joining you for tea and games. We can tomorrow.”

“But you  _ promised _ !”

Anillis pinched his nasal ridge between his fingers, sighing deeply. “ _ Light above _ , you’re always so spirited…” he muttered under his breath. Then, he seemed to reconsider what he had just said. His gaze softened, just a touch, and the corner of his mouth quirked upwards, just a touch. “But I did, didn’t I?”

Then, he looked at Nan. “We will be moving my meeting here,” he said, rising back to his feet and offering Hec-Tor his hand, while dismissing Nan with a flick of his ears. When Nan hesitated, glancing at Hec-Tor, as though he was reluctant to leave his side, something in Anillis’s manner shifted. There was a curl in his lip as he sneered at the Minder. “Must I repeat myself, 099-0783?”

Nan shook his head mutely before he dipped into a low bow, and all but fled from the gardens, leaving Hec-Tor and his brother alone.

—

Long after Hec-Tor was supposed to be sleeping soundly—very,  _ very _ late at night—he was startled awake by a sudden sound. Blinking against the darkness, Hec-Tor sat up and rubbed one of his eyes absently with the heel of his hand. The lights in his bedroom were at their dimmest setting, casting dull blue light across the room. It wasn’t bright enough to be harsh to the eyes, and caught on the dark marbled floor, making it easy to see where to step.

A wide, squeaky yawn managed to escape Hec-Tor as he looked around for any signs of one of his Minders. His mouth felt like sand at the moment, and he wanted a drink of water before he tried to sleep again. Usually either Nan or Kurok stayed in the room with him, just in case he needed anything in the middle of the night. It was more important when he was having a bad health day, but he still found their presence comforting regardless. However, neither was present now, and the room was empty except for himself.

He could hear voices outside in the main living area of the Creche, but couldn’t make out what was being said—it sounded pretty intense, though. Like someone was arguing. Although Hec-Tor’s ears flicked in confusion, he didn’t chirp to let them know he was awake. Their hearing was sharp enough that one of his chirps—whether it be out of distress or something else—would have brought them running to his side. 

Kicking the blankets aside, Hec-Tor rolled out of bed. He left the blankets disorderly and ignored the slippers he was supposed to wear when he was walking around in his nightwear. Making his way to the door, his ears perked again and he tried to hear what was being said out in the main living area. 

“—think he  _ wants _ to be locked away his whole life?”

“When the universe is free from chaos—”

“And what if he doesn’t want to let him go? What then?”

Hec-Tor paused. The door to his room had been left ajar—and seemed to have caught on its track—leaving just enough room for Hec-Tor to squeeze through without having to put his hand on the palm scanner beside it. His Minders were huddled together, around the low table in the center of the Creche, where Hec-Tor often took his meals when his brother was too busy with Imperial matters to eat with him. Doc stood on one side of the table, glaring at Nan, who stood directly opposite of him with a stern expression on his face. Kurok stood at the head of the table, glancing back and forth between the two of them, his brow furrowed in concern as he worried his lip between his teeth.

“Zero-Ten, what you suggest is  _ treason _ ,” Nan said, in that same tone he always used whenever he was chiding Hec-Tor for doing something foolish. However, this time, it lacked the usual fondness. “We are Horde Prime’s most trusted… if he found out—”

Doc’s expression hardened. “If that is how you feel, perhaps you should report me. See how far that gets you.”

Nan flinched as though he had just been struck. The way his ears drooped, flattening to be nearly parallel with his shoulders, made it easy to tell just how horrified he was by the very suggestion. “ _ Think _ before you  _ speak _ , Zero-Ten…”

“ _ Doc _ ,” he hissed in return. “Hec-Tor gave us a great gift by bestowing us with names! We might as well use them.”

Nan opened his mouth and then just as quickly closed it again. He looked very much like some of the beached fish that Hec-Tor had seen in documentaries he had watched from the Archives. Finally, he sighed, his ears twitching uneasily against the sides of his head. “It is our duty to serve our Prince, in doing so, we serve our Emperor,” he said, and there was something about his voice—the way he spoke—that caused a shiver to run up Hec-Tor’s spine. Like he was only half-there. “We will not speak of this again. Just perform your duty, Zero-Ten.”

Hec-Tor frowned as he watched them. He had never seen Doc and Nan fight like this before. They might have disagreed on something occasionally, but they never fought outright…

Kurok, at least, hadn’t been involved. He glanced back and forth between the two of them, and seemed unsure of how to mediate the situation. He was the youngest of the three, having started taking care of Hec-Tor much later than the other two—as a result, Doc and Nan usually overruled him. As Kurok made a second glance, however, his eyes locked onto Hec-Tor, where he was standing, half-hidden in the doorway to his room.

“Evening, Hec-Tor,” Kurok said, as he quickly crossed the room to come over to Hec-Tor’s side.

Immediately, something shifted in Nan and Doc’s manners. Both of them went stiff as they glanced in his direction. Where Kurok had seemed surprised to see Hec-Tor, Nan appeared to be horrified. His ears were twitching erratically against the sides of his head, and it took a few moments for him to school his expression again. He forced a smile as both he and Doc approached where Hec-Tor was standing. For his part, Doc had recovered seamlessly and didn’t appear to be concerned at all.

“My Prince,” Nan said softly. “How long have you been standing there? It is much too late for you to be awake…”

Hec-Tor rubbed one of his eyes sleepily as Kurok knelt down beside him and immediately began threading his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest. “Not long…” Hec-Tor admitted, even though it felt like a lie. “… what were you fighting about?”

“Nothing, Hec-Tor,” Nan said quickly, his voice stiff as he shook his head. “Adult things. You’re too young to understand.”

Beside him, Doc scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. Nan gave him a quick nudge in the ribs, and when Doc let out a faint snarl in return, Nan met his glare head on.

“Did you need something, Hec-Tor?” Kurok asked, tilting his head to the side. He seemed to be actively ignoring whatever spat was going on between Doc and Nan at the moment. Hec-Tor tried to do the same, feeling as though he was witnessing something he shouldn’t be. “It is very late, you know… much too late for little pups to be out of bed.”

“I’m not—” Hec-Tor couldn’t stop himself from yawning, from rubbing one of his eyes. “—not a little pup…”

Kurok merely smiled. “Of course not, Hec-Tor… all the same, if you need something, I will see to it.”

“… water,” Hec-Tor admitted. “I’m thirsty.”

“Alright, a quick glass of water, and then it’s off to bed,” Kurok said before he carefully picked Hec-Tor up off the ground. 

Even though Hec-Tor normally would have argued—he was too big to be carried around anymore, he wasn’t a toddler anymore—he was too tired to do so now. As Kurok carried him away, he looked back to where Doc, at least, had remained. Nan had already wandered off, but Doc was still rooted in place, staring off after them…

… and then, for the briefest of moments, his eyes shifted. It was like a trick of a light, or when the screen on Hec-Tor’s datapad glitched. A quick blip from bright, citrine green. Cracks of red forming across the surface of Doc’s eyes… but when Hec-Tor blinked, the shift in Doc’s eyes was gone.

He must have been more sleepy than he had thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eagle-eyed readers might notice there's a repeated scene in this chapter from _where one fell_ except the pov has shifted... there's three interludes in this fic, and i chose the time period i did for them for a very specific reason... but hey, you get more bby hec-tor out of it, so enjoy that i guess (:


	5. Slow Escalation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally got around to finishing the edits here!! merry late christmas everybody!!

When Hec-Tor was a pup, he hadn’t liked it when his brother left him. He had always been inconsolable, and nothing any of his Minders had done had been able to calm him. He would cry and beg to go along with Prime, clinging to one of his legs, whining about how unfair it was that he had to stay back on the  _ Velvet Glove _ while Prime got to leave. He remembered shouting things he didn’t actually mean in his frustration and then feeling guilty because he couldn’t immediately apologize for hurting his brother’s feelings like that…

While he had always had at least one Minder to keep him company, the  _ Velvet Glove _ had always felt colder and emptier when his brother was absent.

This time, when Prime had left, Hec-Tor hadn’t cried nor had he clung to his brother and begged him to stay. He  _ certainly _ hadn’t complained about how unfair it was that he wasn’t permitted to accompany Prime to Vampyrus, much as he longed to go. Hec-Tor was much too old for that, he wasn’t a toddler anymore. Instead, he had merely forced a smile and wished his brother safe passage, and his brother had carefully threaded his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest and butted their foreheads together before he was gone.

Hec-Tor was almost ashamed to admit that the reason he hadn’t been particularly upset  _ this _ time was because he had been waiting until his brother had departed to actually reach out to Entrapta. He hadn’t been able to risk it until his brother was gone… it had already been several days, and he worried that she might have assumed he had forgotten about her, despite his promise. He didn’t make a habit of breaking those, if he could help it.

The message had been short, little more than a statement of fact—the Command Drone in charge of Etherian affairs had sent out a search party into the woods outside of what seemed to be the capital city, and there hadn’t been any word yet. Despite the brevity, Hec-Tor hoped it was enough. Although Caduceus had been hesitant to deliver the message, he had eventually relented—with enough pleading on Hec-Tor’s part—and disappeared from the Creche.

But that had been nearly an hour ago. 

Such a simple errand shouldn’t have taken more than fifteen minutes, and there wasn’t much in his message for Entrapta to respond to. Hec-Tor found himself pacing the longer that Caduceus was gone, unable to still his racing thoughts. Had the Attendants in charge of Entrapta’s care refused to let Caduceus see her? Hec-Tor hadn’t considered that… his brother would have left specific instructions for how they were meant to handle the Etherians while he was absent.

A low, frustrated hiss left Hec-Tor as he finally paused in his stride. His ears—bare for the moment—flicked at the tips, and he took a deep breath in an attempt to ground himself again… before he attempted to throw something. Before his thoughts could start drifting again, his gaze moved to the windows he had been pacing the length of since Caduceus had left. Bright white light streamed in around him, but he was no longer looking at Etheria. They had jumped from that sector just before Prime had left, although Hec-Tor didn’t know why. To him, it seemed like an unnecessary complication, if the sword was located while his brother was away. He hadn’t found the nerve to question Prime on his decision before he had left, though.

Hec-Tor was certain Prime had a reason for it… a  _ good _ one, surely.

Then, one of his ears swiveled to listen behind him as the main door to the Creche opened, drawing his attention away from the stars again. Caduceus strode in, shifting his hood down without a word. He mussed the crest of snow white hair atop his head, smoothing it back down to the best of his ability. In his other hand, he was holding a thick envelope.

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a curious flick at the sight of it—how could Entrapta have had that much to say?—but he decided against commenting on it immediately. “How—How did it go?” he asked instead, approaching where Caduceus was standing.

“Well enough, once I talked my way past Princess Entrapta’s guards,” Caduceus said, allowing his hand to fall back to his side again now that he was satisfied with his hair. He glanced at the envelope he held in his other hand. “It only took me so long because she insisted that I wait until she finished recording her response. She wanted you to have it immediately.”

“… that is not a recorder,” Hec-Tor said, frowning first at the envelope and then at Caduceus.

Caduceus reached up and lightly rubbed the mottled tip of his ear. “I know… but Horde Prime has forbidden such things. A recorder might have been rigged to explode when in proximity of you.”

Hec-Tor’s frown deepened—of all the  _ absurd _ —but he bit back his retort.

“Princess Entrapta was… very talkative,” Caduceus added. Unlike Prime, he didn’t have an underlying venom to his voice. “She seems to be looking forward to working with you, judging by the…”

Trailing off, Caduceus motioned to the envelope with his ears.

“Can I…?” Hec-Tor asked, reaching out for the envelope with more eagerness than he probably should have.

“Here,” Caduceus said, handing it over. “You can read it while I draw your bath.”

Hec-Tor managed a nod, but his attention was already wavering from the conversation. When he turned the envelope over, however, he froze in place. The seal on the back had already been broken, and the papers inside were disheveled, as though they had been hastily shoved back inside. Hec-Tor’s ears gave a nervous flick as he glanced in the direction of his bedroom. Caduceus had already disappeared from the Creche, and if Hec-Tor strained his hearing, he could pick up the sound of water running in his bathroom.

It wasn’t unusual for Caduceus to read messages intended for Hec-Tor before he could read them himself, and ordinarily, Hec-Tor thought nothing of it… but now an uncomfortable feeling wormed its way into his gut. Entrapta could have said  _ anything _ in the letter, and if she had mentioned anything particularly damning, what if Prime caught wind of it…?

Pushing the thought away, Hec-Tor settled down on the couch and dug out the very detailed letter. Carefully, he carded through the pages, counting them. Fifteen in total, front and back. Hec-Tor found himself wondering how she had managed to reply with so much, given he had only sent her about a quarter of a page. Guilt lingered in the back of his mind—he should have put more effort into his message to her.

He’d make up for it in his response to her—send her back a letter that was twice as long as hers had been.

The first thing that caught his attention when he began skimming the letter was how many questions Entrapta had managed to think of. Most of the ones in the first few pages of the letter seemed to be related to the  _ Velvet Glove. _ Did it have artificial gravity or what it large enough to create its own? How had it been built and where had that occurred? How did it sustain its own power and water supply? How many ‘Attendants’ worked aboard and how did Horde Prime mitigate outbreaks of disease with so many around? 

The answers weren’t particularly interesting, in Hec-Tor’s opinion. Despite its size, the  _ Velvet Glove _ was nowhere near large enough to create its own gravitational field, so they were kept in place by artificial gravity. It had been built long before Hec-Tor would have been able to remember it, so he wasn’t aware of the specifics, only that it had been constructed on Vampyrus. He supposed that Entrapta would find it interesting to read the schematics that explained how power was harvested, and how the water recycled itself, so perhaps he could forward those to her. As for the Attendants, he wondered if the Etherians even had vaccinations. Caduceus had at least a hundred, from what Hec-Tor had been told, although most Attendants didn’t receive that many.

The rest of the letter was filled with observations that Entrapta had felt would be helpful to them when they were finally allowed to work together—whenever that would be. Hec-Tor was already anxious for the sword to be found, and it had only been a couple of days. Most of the information in the letter had been mentioned previously. The Heart of Etheria’s existence and how she believed it was related to the portal that had brought them out of ‘Despondos’. The sword being made of First One’s tech, and she referred to as the ‘Sword of Protection’, which was the first time it had been given a proper name he might have been able to search for in the Archives. The existence of the so-called ‘runestones’, alongside the  _ names _ of them, which was equally helpful.

His eye was drawn to two names in particular—the Moonstone and the Black Garnet. According to the notes that Entrapta had provided, they were held by Brightmoon and Mystacor, respectively. That was not surprising. He had already assumed that only the most powerful Etherian queendoms would hold a runestone. What was surprising was the existence of three additional runestones that appeared to be held by what he presumed were lesser queendoms. None of the three were represented aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ .

Hec-Tor frowned at the letter. How did Etherians dictate leadership then, if not by who held powerful magical artifacts? They didn’t appear to have a clan-based system, which was equally as baffling to him. How could Queen Glimmer or Lady Shadow Weaver expect to hold power if they didn’t have the respect of their councils… did they even  _ have _ councils? There was so much he didn’t know about their political structure, and he wasn’t even sure his brother was fully aware of the intricacies yet either.

Another thing he noticed was that Dryl didn’t appear to have a runestone at all…

It was no wonder Entrapta had agreed to work with Shadow Weaver… she must have promised Entrapta the opportunity to study the Black Garnet to further her research. Hec-Tor could understand that, and he likely would have done the same if his brother gave him permission to leave the  _ Velvet Glove _ .

He recalled Entrapta mentioning that it was probably that the runestones siphoned energy and funneled it to the heart of the planet… and he was beginning to wonder if the Heart of Etheria could be responsible for the  _ Velvet Glove _ being knocked offline. The chip that his brother had given him consistently caused issues with Horde tech—from frying the eternal circuits of a datapad to causing a light to waver in brightness to causing static across his skin when he held it near his ports. The Heart holding so much energy could easily have caused the  _ Velvet Glove _ to shut down.

On the other hand… all of the magic he had come into contact with thus far had smelled strongly of alkaline metals, as had been the case with Queen Glimmer and Princess Scorpia, or acrid darkness, as had been the case with Shadow Weaver. Oddly, Entrapta hadn’t smelled like either, despite presumably having some magical abilities herself, given her prehensile hair.

It was definitely something he’d have to ask when he found the opportunity to do so.

—

Entrapta’s letter had to be set aside shortly thereafter. Though Hec-Tor could have read it further while in the bath, he hadn’t wanted to risk damaging the pages. Steam rolled off the bathwater, which was kept at a stable temperature to allow his muscles to properly relax and get rid of the ache lingering in his limbs. It was also carefully scented, so as to not overwhelm his senses.

“Tilt your head back, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said as he worked his talons through the snow white hair of Hec-Tor’s crest, lathering soap there in an attempt to free any lingering dirt and debris. “I don’t want you to get soap in your eyes.”

Hec-Tor shifted in his seat, awkwardly scooting forward and then leaning his head back as Caduceus had instructed. Now he could actually see his Minder’s face. His hood and cloak had been shed, alongside his skirts, leaving him only in the bodysuit he wore beneath, and his sleeves had been carefully rolled up to his elbows. All in an effort to make sure he didn’t become completely soaked while he was helping Hec-Tor bathe.

Warm water cascaded from the cup Caduceus held in his hand as he worked the soap free from Hec-Tor’s crest. “Perhaps you can call Horde Prime before you go to bed,” he suggested as he carefully cradled the back of Hec-Tor’s head and brought another cup up. “He would be very happy to hear from you.”

Hec-Tor sighed and allowed his eyes to slide shut. “He’ll have arrived in the evening… there will be blessings he needs to oversee,” he retorted, knowing that High Aurora Alekos would have already made up Prime’s schedule. Certain ceremonies could only be performed properly beneath the cover of starlight, such as funerals. If the ashes of the departed weren’t released beneath starlight, souls could become lost, and having the Horde Prime in attendance would have been a very great honor.

“Oh… yes, I suppose so,” Caduceus said with an apologetic undertone to his voice. “However, I—I still believe that he would want to hear from you.”

One of Hec-Tor’s ears twitched as he listened to the water cascade back into the bath. He inhaled deeply, catching the tang of herbs and florals on the roof of his mouth. There was an ever present urge to sink in and surround himself completely in the warmth of the water. It was much too cold outside of it for his tastes.

“If Anillis had let me accompany him, we could have talked whenever we pleased,” Hec-Tor muttered, opening one of his eyes to peer up at his Minder.

Caduceus merely tilted his head to the side, frowning. “Hec-Tor…”

“Before he left, did he mention when I was meeting with the Etherians?” Hec-Tor asked before Caduceus could finish. His brother hadn’t said anything on the subject before he had departed, but given how eager Prime had to be to ply the Etherians for information, Hec-Tor assumed he’d be meeting with them sooner, rather than later.

“He… he did not,” Caduceus said hesitantly, his ears flicking uncomfortably against the sides of his head. “He left the choice to you.”

A shiver ran up Hec-Tor’s spine despite the warmth of the bathwater, and he sat up abruptly, causing the bathwater to slosh over the edge of the in-ground tub. “ _ What _ ? But I—I’ve never—”

Surely Prime had already arranged it? He didn’t usually leave such things up to chance… and Hec-Tor’s sheer lack of experience would only cause problems. What if he said something wrong or—or he accidentally offended the Etherians and they didn’t want to speak to him again? Queen Glimmer had already made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like him—

“Be at ease, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said soothingly as he reached out to grab an ivory comb from the bathside table. He carefully began working the comb through Hec-Tor’s crest. 

The motion was enough to ground Hec-Tor and keep him present. He sucked down a shaky breath, trying to get his emotions back under control… before it grew worse. That was the perfect gateway to a fainting spell, and he couldn’t be forced to bed rest. Not when his brother had entrusted him with something so important.

“I—I apologize,” Hec-Tor said softly.

Caduceus flicked his ears dismissively, his expression hardening. “You have nothing to apologize for. The fault is mine. I should have told you sooner.”

Hec-Tor said nothing in response. Instead, he tried to focus on the comb working its way through his crest, on his own deep, measured breaths, on the warm water that enveloped him. His heart rate slowed and he let out another sigh.

“Here, let me see your arm,” Caduceus said, methodically taking hold of Hec-Tor’s wrist. He carefully turned Hec-Tor arm this way and that, looking over the depigmentation that reached from his shoulders down to just past his elbow, creeping along his skin like veins. It was always easiest to check the spread when Hec-Tor was bathing, although thankfully, the spread hasn’t been as fast in recent years. So long as Hec-Tor continued taking his medication, in theory, all would be well.

Caduceus’s ears gave a curious flick a moment later. “If it has spread further, I can’t tell. That’s good,” he said, releasing his hold on Hec-Tor wrist.

Hec-Tor allowed his thoughts to wander as Caduceus returned to combing out his crest, but he tried to focus on the good, rather than the bad—on how the depigmenting of his skin had seemed to slowed near to a halt, rather than how he was now responsible for setting up a meeting with the Etherians, without his brother’s counsel. However, he realized as he continued mulling it over that there was actually a bright side to this. 

Prime was trusting him to handle the meeting on his own, when he often seemed to believe that Hec-Tor was incapable of handling himself around other people if he wasn’t there to supervise. If Hec-Tor could prove that his lack of experience wouldn’t cause issues, maybe his brother would allow him more freedom. He might even be allowed to leave so that he could assist in managing the Empire. Prime wouldn’t have to stretch himself so thin, and he would have more time to spend with Hec-Tor if they were sharing the work.

All Hec-Tor had ever wanted was to be able to help his brother, to be his second-in-command…

“Horde Prime might have advice, if you call him,” Caduceus suggested, as though he had been able to read Hec-Tor’s train of thought. 

Hec-Tor looked up from the water as the comb finally withdrew from his crest. A faint  _ clink _ echoed off of the walls of the bathroom as it was set back down on the bathside table, and Hec-Tor’s ears twitched at the sound. He watched as Caduceus reached out for the oils that were always worked through Hec-Tor’s crest to keep it soft and shiny… only to pause just as his talons grazed the amber glass bottle.

One of Caduceus’s ears swiveled in the direction of the bathroom door, and his brow furrowed as he listened. While Hec-Tor didn’t hear anything, Caduceus seemed to.

“I’ll be back in a moment, Hec-Tor,” he said before rising from his spot beside the tub. He didn’t bother redressing into his full uniform, leaving him in just his black bodysuit, and then he disappeared from the room.

Hec-Tor craned his head and leaned heavily against the side of the tub, and trained his ears on the doorway that led into his bedroom. Desperate to hear any scrap of the conversation.

The first voice that met his ears held the deep pitch of an Attendant—low, controlled, almost serene in his inflection. However, Hec-Tor couldn’t make out more than a couple of words. “ _ —message—direct—Etherian— _ ”

Although Caduceus matched the Attendant in pitch, his tone was lighter, his voice softer, making it easy to distinguish him. “ _ —only been an hour— _ ”

“ _ —insistent— _ ”

Hec-Tor’s ears twitched in confusion as he listened to the fragments of conversation. There wasn’t enough context. Had something happened in the Guest Wing since Caduceus had returned with Entrapta’s letter? No Attendants had burst into the Creche since then to explain a dangerous situation looming, and Caduceus hadn’t been on any higher alert than he usually was. Hec-Tor could only assume that all was well, and this Attendant was merely delivering a message.

As Caduceus slipped back into the bathroom, Hec-Tor peered at him, and caught sight of the very stuffed envelope he was clutching in his talons. 

“… what is it?” Hec-Tor asked.

Caduceus’s ears gave a dismissive flick. “It would appear… that Princess Entrapta has more to say. This is from her,” he said simply as he popped open the wax seal on the envelope and began flipping through the pages held within.

As he had likely done with the first letter Entrapta had written that was intended for Hec-Tor.

The same nagging feeling from earlier wormed its way back into Hec-Tor’s gut. It somehow felt more violating to see Caduceus read a letter that was intended for him, but Hec-Tor found it difficult to parse why exactly that was. He knew that Caduceus didn’t mean anything by it, and was just doing as he had been ordered, but it had never felt so…  _ wrong _ to see it happen. And Hec-Tor found that he didn’t want someone—even his Minder—to read a message that had been intended for him before he had had the opportunity to read it himself.

When Prime returned, Hec-Tor would bring it up to him. He was old enough that he could handle reading his own letters.

“I haven’t even responded to her yet,” Hec-Tor said and he was thankful Caduceus glanced away from the pages he had been skimming.

“There isn’t a single repeated question in here,” Caduceus said, and he sounded almost… impressed. But there was a lingering wariness there too, judging by the set of his ears. “She is  _ very _ observant.”

“She is,” Hec-Tor agreed, his own ears flicking in discomfort as he watched Caduceus continue flipping through the pages.

Caduceus glanced at him, his brow furrowing. His ears gave a confused twitch. “… what’s wrong?”

“I—” Hec-Tor cut off. It would have been the perfect opportunity to ask when Caduceus had been ordered to skim through messages intended for him… but Caduceus’s confusion made it clear he wasn’t being malicious. “It—It’s nothing… Entrapta is likely just anxious to speak with me in person.”

Her sending two novel-length letters in such a short time frame, both of which contained detailed observations… it made Hec-Tor wonder why he was wasting time with Queen Glimmer and Princess Scorpia. It seemed like Entrapta was willing to divulge just about anything, at the slightest provocation. But Hec-Tor was also hesitant to prod her for information, much as he wanted to be helpful to his brother. 

No, doing so wouldn’t have sat right with him, as she had been nothing but polite and kind—bar scaring him out of his wits by spontaneously appearing without notice. She had encouraged him to explain his theories and had seemed very excited to spend time with him in the near future. Why would he have stooped so low as to betray her trust like that?

The mere thought of that left an uneasy feeling twisting in his gut, and he quickly attempted to tamp it down.

—

Reaching out to the Etherians to schedule a second meeting had ended up being more difficult than Hec-Tor had initially thought. After having such seamless communication with Entrapta, he had assumed that he’d feel confident enough to send invitations to Queen Glimmer and Princess Scorpia. It should have been easy—and it would have been for his brother—but Hec-Tor didn’t know where to begin.

A location would be a start, he supposed. The easiest would have been to reuse the dining room where they had previously met, and he could have met them within a day’s time if he had felt like it… but that setting wouldn’t have invoked pleasant memories—for himself or for the Etherians. It was claustrophobic, much too small for the three of them, in addition to five or more Attendants. Hec-Tor was worried that it might foster any pleasant conversation either. Queen Glimmer already didn’t like him  _ or _ Princess Scorpia.

But Prime had trusted him to get information out of these people, and even though Hec-Tor didn’t feel right lying to them about his motivations to get information, he didn’t want to disappoint his brother. This wasn’t like Entrapta’s letters.

“… why isn’t he picking up?” Hec-Tor muttered, more to himself than to Caduceus. He stared at the datapad he was clutching in his hands—after five attempts at getting a hold of Prime, Hec-Tor was beginning to grow impatient. He couldn’t even settle his mind by mindlessly scrolling through the Archives, trying in vain to find even a scrap of information he might have missed. None of the terms that Entrapta had mentioned in her letters—from the names of the runestones to those of the queendoms—had turned up in the database.

“Well, he is not ignoring you,” Caduceus said. Most of his focus was trained on the dress he had laid out across his lap—one of Hec-Tor’s favorite nightgowns—as he slowly embroidered stars across the hem of one of the sleeves. “It is early, he is likely helping the High Aurora oversee the morning rites.”

Hec-Tor hadn’t assumed Prime was ignoring him… but he was accustomed to is brother immediately picking up the second he received a call. The morning rites, though, had completely slipped his mind. They usually didn’t practice them aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ , as it was difficult to do so when there was never a proper sunrise. High Aurora Alekos had clearly ensured Prime had a full itinerary—meetings with important clan heads, blessing that new cathedral he had mentioned. As Prime so rarely showed his face in public, many would have turned out to see him as well.

For that reason alone, Hec-Tor would understand why his brother had been hesitant to take him. Not only did large groups of people make him anxious, but he could have possibly gotten hurt or sick as a result of people clambering to meet him. Hec-Tor appeared even less than Prime did, and he was usually only seen during broadcasts from the  _ Velvet Glove _ .

“Are you worried that the Etherians might harm you?” Caduceus asked.

Hec-Tor glanced over his shoulder, his ears dusting a faint shade of blue.

On the other side of the room, Caduceus paused halfway through a stitch and glanced up from his work. His own ears flicked against the sides of his head. “Queen Glimmer doesn’t seem particularly nice. I thought she was going to hiss at me when I was last down in the Guest Wing.”

Yesterday, then, when he had delivered Hec-Tor’s return letter to Entrapta. Hec-Tor sighed softly, and began picking at a loose thread on his sleeve. “Did you see Lady Shadow Weaver while you were down there?”

Caduceus shook his head. “Horde Prime keeps them all in separate sections of the wing…” he trailed off and his ears gave a very uneasy flick. There was a far off, unfocused look in his eyes and then a shudder run through his shoulders. “But I  _ felt _ her— _ smelled _ her—even if I didn’t  _ see _ her.”

Hec-Tor remembered that cloying stench of acrid darkness that hit the roof of his mouth when she had entered the dining room, nearly a week ago. High Aurora Alekos had always stressed that even if you couldn’t  _ see _ a shade, you could always _ smell  _ one, you could tell one by how they  _ moved _ . Had Prime mentioned to them that a shade now stalked the halls of the  _ Velvet Glove _ ? Hec-Tor doubted it.

“She’s been moving more freely around that wing than any of the other Etherians…” Caduceus added.

“… with Anillis’s blessing?” Hec-Tor asked.

Caduceus said nothing and he reached up to rub the mottled tip of his ear. That was enough of an answer for Hec-Tor, and his stomach rolled. High Aurora Alekos would have a conniption if they knew a shade was waltzing around the  _ Velvet Glove _ as she pleased. They’d have demanded to come to the ship to cleanse it… nothing could contain a shade.  _ Nothing _ .

That was why Alekos had always said the only good kind of shade was a _ dead _ one.

“I could barely smell Queen Glimmer, and I didn’t pick up Princess Entrapta at all,” Caduceus added.With an uncomfortable flutter of his ears, he turned his attention back to the embroidery sitting across his lap.

Hec-Tor sighed, turning his attention back to his datapad, trying to will his brother into existence just by staring at it.

“A watched shadow never fades, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said, and he set aside the embroidery. “Do you want some tea? I’ll make you some tea. That will help.”

Hec-Tor wasn’t so sure about that, but he said nothing as Caduceus disappeared from the room. His ears pricked as he listened to Caduceus pad away from the door, and then his ears turned in the direction of the vent that was above his vanity… as if Caduceus disappearing would suddenly bring about one of Entrapta’s mysterious appearances. However, she seemed to be heeding his warnings that she couldn’t be seen in the Imperial Wing without her Attendants.

It was only then that the datapad in his hands started going off, and Hec-Tor nearly fell off his seat in surprise. Glancing at the screen, he was relieved to see that it was just Prime, finally returning his call. A small, spiteful part of him was tempted to let Prime go to message—the list of grievances he had, ranging from the discomfort over having his letters read to how he hated being left behind, was steadily growing—but he knew that wasn’t fair. His brother would only grow more worried if he wasn’t immediately answered.

Taking a deep breath, Hec-Tor lightly tapped the datapad’s screen and answered the call.

“ _ Hec-Tor! Are you alright? I can make an excuse for Alekos so that I can leave at once if you need me to— _ ” 

Even though Prime continued speaking—explaining that he could come home at once if Hec-Tor needed him to—Hec-Tor was peering at his brother’s surroundings. He couldn’t tell exactly where Prime was, but it was easy enough to tell he was somewhere in the Oasis of Auroras, the capital city of Vampyrus. Prime strode past large, sweeping windows that looked out onto the subterranean city.

At present, the flashes of the city that Hec-Tor caught sight of were not terribly impressive. Sunlight from outside of the city peeked through the cave mouths that led out onto the dunes. Judging by the angle of the rays, it seemed to be early in the afternoon. The city wouldn’t truly begin to come alive until it was darker, when the sunlight didn’t drown out the bioluminscence that painted every rock surface. From what he had seen in pictures, the effect was stunning, every surface painted in blues, purples, greens, and reds.

Hurrying along after Prime was one of the members of the Order who must have been assigned to him for the duration of his stay. They were dressed from head-to-toe in sweeping robes of white, with very little jewelry—a clear indication of their status within the Order. Their hood had been pulled up over their head, casting their face largely in shadow, save for their large blue eyes and the bright, glowing paint that had been applied over their face. Scrutinizing them, Hec-Tor didn’t see any of the tattoos that swept across the skin of every Aurora who had chosen to dedicate their lives to the Eternal Light. Definitely an acolyte then, and a young one too by the looks of it.

Prime was not dressed dissimilarly, although unlike the acolyte, his robes had a plunging neckline. Most of his chest was covered in paint that had been applied in sweeping lines to mimic the tattoos that Auroras had covering their bodies. His body paint, from his face to his chest, was smudged and would likely need to be reapplied before he could attend further ceremonies throughout the day. Hec-Tor lost sight of the hallway when Prime strode into the room he had been provided. The acolyte following him tried to argue, only to have the door slammed in their face.

It took him a moment to realize that Prime was talking to him.

“What?” Hec-Tor said.

“ _ I asked if you were alright _ ,” Prime repeated as he crossed his room and sat down heavily at the vanity.

“I’m… fine?” Hec-Tor asked, tilting one of his ears uncertainly. “You don’t need to come home if the High Aurora still needs you—”

“ _ You called me  _ five times,  _ Hec-Tor. I was beside myself in worry! _ ” Prime retorted.

Hec-Tor nearly pointed out that it had been over the course of several hours, but held his tongue. Admittedly, he probably should have left a message… that way his brother wouldn’t have had reason to worry about him so much.

“Um… how—how did your ceremony go?” Hec-Tor asked, and out of habit indicated with his ears, intending to motion towards how Prime was dressed. He wasn’t sure if his brother understood, though. It was much more difficult to indicate properly over video calls.

On the other side of the screen, Prime grimaced and shoved back his hood, revealing that his crest was an utter mess. Half of it had come loose, falling to brush along his collarbones. Now, Hec-Tor could clearly see that the luminescent paint that had been applied across Prime’s face had run and become smudged around his eyes and along the lines of his cheekbones, jaw, and chin. Hec-Tor must have finally caught him when he was returning to his room to freshen up for afternoon ceremonies.

“ _ It was long and tedious _ ,” Prime finally grumbled as he reached for one of the cloths from the vanity he was sitting at. Wordlessly, he began rubbing the luminescent paint that had been applied around one of his natural eyes—the unnatural ones were closed tight for once, leaving Prime looking as he had when Hec-Tor was young. Prime only succeeded in smudging the paint more and making himself look absolutely ridiculous, though.

It reminded Hec-Tor of that time he had gotten into Prime’s makeup as a pup, before he had actually learned how to properly apply eyeliner, and he snorted at the sight, muffling the sound behind his fist. Prime shot him an unamused look, ears twitching irritably.

“ _ Our most wonderful High Aurora has been running me ragged since I arrived _ ,” Prime continued, with a clear bite to his tone—like he would’ve gone for the throat at the earliest convenience. “ _ Truly we are blessed by their leadership. _ ”

Hec-Tor frowned, his ears twitching uneasily. “… they are the High Aurora, Anillis… you shouldn’t speak so badly of—”

“ _ You do not know Alekos as I do, little one, _ ” Prime retorted, cutting him off—and Hec-Tor knew that there was no reason to continue arguing. Prime’s vitriol was likely connected to whatever had happened at their father’s funeral, which Alekos had overseen the final rites of, as had been one of their duties prior to their ascension to their position as the High Aurora.

“ _ Now then, _ ” Prime said as he continued trying to rub the luminescent paint off from around one of his eyes. “ _ You’ve been receiving messages from that princess from Dryl. _ ”

Hec-Tor’s ears flicked nervously. “I… I felt it was important to maintain communication. We—We haven’t spoken face-to-face, so I thought—”

“ _ Even if you are not speaking face-to-face, it won’t do to let your guard down, little one, _ ” Prime chided him, shooting him a stern look.

The question of why his Minder was still reading his messages lingered on the tip of Hec-Tor’s tongue… but he lost his nerve and averted his gaze instead. “Yes, Anillis,” he mumbled, his ears pinning back against the sides of his head.

“ _ I only bring this up because your Minder informed me that you haven’t met with the Etherians since I left, _ ” Prime continued. If he noticed the set of Hec-Tor’s ears, he didn’t say so. “ _ I must admit, I was worried that the responsibility would be too much for you. _ ”

“I didn’t know where to meet with them,” Hec-Tor said.

Prime’s own ears tilted as he finally managed to finish cleaning around his eye. “ _ Why not take them to the gardens? _ ”

Hec-Tor’s gaze snapped back to the datapad’s screen, and he found he could only balk at his brother. Prime never allowed visitors into the gardens. It was a sacred place, where Prime kept all of the plants he tended to so dearly—half of which had belonged to their late father, and were their only true reminder of him that remained.

“ _ It is merely a matter of pragmatism, _ ” Prime added, flicking his ears dismissively as he noticed Hec-Tor’s look. “ _ They might be more inclined to speak with you there… more varied surroundings can lower inhibitions and loose the tongue. _ ”

Still Hec-Tor hesitated. The gardens were expansive, and it was possible to walk through the entirety of them and never run into another soul. Hec-Tor would know, as he had spent a large potion of his childhood playing there while Prime tended to the plants. Knowing that Shadow Weaver had been allowed to move with more freedom than the others… could she have gotten into the gardens too?

Prime sighed, leaning back in his seat. “Do not worry, Hec-Tor. I will make sure all of the Attendants on duty are high alert. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

“… of course, Anillis…” Hec-Tor said softly, feeling just a little better. “I—I will send out the invitations at once.”

Prime dipped his head once before turning his attention back to trying to rub the lingering paint off of his face. One of his ears was turning in the direction of the datapad, though, just in case Hec-Tor said something else. “ _ Is that all? _ ”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth. There were many questions lingering on his tongue—about Shadow Weaver, Entrapta, the sword and its whereabouts. Had he made the High Aurora aware of the intricacies of all of this, since he was spending so much time alongside them? The questions ultimately died on his tongue. He didn’t want to incite an argument between the two of them.

“Yes, that’s everything…” Hec-Tor said, his ears flicking uneasily.

“ _ Hec-Tor, you are terrible at lying, _ ” Prime sighed, resting his chin against the back of his hand and peering at the screen on his end. “ _ If you need me to come home, you need only say so. I can make up some excuse to Alekos and— _ ”

He cut off abruptly, his ear shifting in the direction of the door behind him, although his gaze didn’t follow. A knock sounded a moment later, and then…

“ _ Anillis! You cannot just  _ leave  _ as you did— _ ”

Hec-Tor immediately recognized the voice of High Aurora Alekos on the other end of the line, and Prime let out an irritated snarl in the back of his throat.

“ _ I’ll speak with you later, Hec-Tor _ ,” Prime said, already turning away from the mirror.

Hec-Tor let out an irritated chirp, his ears twitching against the sides of his head. “Wait, but I want to talk to—”

The video call cut out before Hec-Tor could even finish his sentence, leaving him staring at his own reflection in the screen of the datapad. With a sigh, Hec-Tor leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest in disappointment. He hadn’t spoken to High Aurora Alekos in  _ months _ , despite how many times their counsel would have been invaluable. They had always been very kind to him, calling him ‘little light’ and giving their advice without judgment. But the only time he saw them anymore was when they were arguing with Prime for one reason or another.

Which was a shame, given the circumstances.

He barely even noticed that Caduceus had returned until a cup of tea was set down in front of him. Wordlessly, Hec-Tor reached out and picked up the cup, letting it warm his hands. He watched the steam roll off the surface before taking a sip. Caduceus was right, it did help…

Caduceus lightly ran his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest. “How did it go?”

“Fine,” Hec-Tor said stiffly—at least they hadn’t gotten into an argument, even if Prime had cut the feed before he had the opportunity to speak with the High Aurora. Taking another deep sip, Hec-Tor sighed.

“Did you ask him what you needed to?” Caduceus continued, letting his hand fall back to his side. He didn’t press, even though the set of his ears made it clear he didn’t fully believe what Hec-Tor had just said.

“Yes,” Hec-Tor said, nodding. “He suggested the gardens.”

A slight smile appeared on Caduceus’s features. “Did he? I am sure the Etherians will love the gardens as much as you do, Hec-Tor.”

“… can you help me write the invitations?” Hec-Tor asked hopefully. While he had been taught how to do so— _ by _ Caduceus—he still wasn’t exactly sure where to start. He was concerned about coming across too formally, or informally, or possibly offending the Etherians so badly that he never received responses.

Caduceus dipped his head once, his smile broadening. “Of course…” he said, sitting down beside Hec-Tor so that they were nearly hip to hip. “If we’re quick, we might even get responses this evening…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: part v - _stress fractures_
> 
> can't wait for alekos to actually appear on screen 😭😭


	6. Stress Fractures

The gardens aboard the _Velvet Glove_ were one of Hec-Tor’s favorite places to visit. There was real grass there, real plants… he didn’t have to pretend to know what grass felt like because of the gardens. The water feature made it feel as though he had just stepped into a magical forest, like one of the settings in his books. There were thousands of different specimens there as well, planted amongst flowerbeds and tended to by his brother. Most of them had been taken from Father’s flagship, the _Caliburnus_ , following his death. Although Hec-Tor had never seen the gardens aboard the _Caliburnus_ , his brother had told him that they had been even more expansive than those aboard the _Velvet Glove_ …

Hec-Tor hoped to ask Princess Scorpia and Queen Glimmer what the surface of Etheria was like. Although he had never actually set foot off of the _Velvet Glove_ , he knew that every planet was different, and he was curious how the presence of magic had affected Etheria’s ecosystems. Would Prime even be able to add the native flora to his expansive collection of plants, or would the change in environment swiftly kill them? Hec-Tor hoped it was the former, so that he’d have something new to look at…

For now, if he didn’t peer through the tree canopy too closely, and notice the fluorescents fixed into the ceiling through the leaves, he could pretend that he had finally been allowed off the _Velvet Glove_ …

… even if only for a few moments.

“Hec-Tor—”

Caduceus’s voice jarred Hec-Tor away from thoughts of sunlight warming his skin, of feeling a gale of wind sweep through the trees. But despite the life around them, the gardens felt cold and sterile, the air smelled stagnant and stale. His ears twitched at the tips as he recognized the whisper of ‘wind’ for what it was… the ship’s life support system pushing air throughout the vents. 

Several paces ahead of Hec-Tor, Caduceus had stopped along the ‘trail’—which itself was merely a narrow stretch of grass, flanked on either side by mulch beds that were around fifteen feet deep. They were not nearly full enough to hide the sterile gray walls that separated the gardens from the rest of the ship. Hec-Tor’s ears drooped as the illusion was shattered again, and even the feeling of real grass beneath his feet did nothing for his spirits.

“Are you alright?” Caduceus asked, tilting his head to the side. His eyes narrowed in the shadow of his hood, little more than slits of bright, citrine green.

“Perfectly fine. Why do you ask?” Hec-Tor said stiffly, and he took Caduceus’s arm when it was offered to him, carefully tucking his hand in the crook of Caduceus’s elbow.

“Your ears are drooping,” Caduceus said as they made their way around a bend, heading deeper into the gardens. His hood shifted as his ears moved beneath, but if he had something else to add, he decided to hold his tongue.

The tips of Hec-Tor’s ears dusted a light shade of blue as he averted his gaze. “I was, uh…” he trailed off, not fully willing to admit that he had been fantasizing about being off the _Velvet Glove_ , walking through a forest and feeling the sunlight touch his skin.

“You do not have to explain, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said simply as they made another turn through the labyrinth of greenery, stepping beneath a series of stone arches that had been taken over by moss that Hec-Tor knew from experience would glow in the dark when the lights were dimmed. They continued making their way towards the very center of the gardens, where a large pavilion was—and also where Hec-Tor had decided to have the meeting with the Etherians.

Hec-Tor was actually surprised by how little his nerves were currently eating away at him… sending the invitations—and then receiving acceptances mere hours later—had taken a huge weight off of his shoulders.

As they neared the center of the gardens, a now-familiar scent hit the roof of Hec-Tor’s mouth—alkaline metals, muted but still present. It wasn’t strong enough to be one of the Etherians, and it wasn’t stale enough for it to be a lingering scent. His ears flicked curiously. 

“Did Anillis get new plants?” Hec-Tor asked, glancing at Caduceus.

Caduceus opened his mouth, revealing his canines and inhaled deeply so that the scent of the gardens would wash over the roof of his mouth. His ears twitched in contemplation. “I believe those must be the new plants Horde Prime brought back from Etheria,” he explained. “I do not know where he acquired them from, nor their names. Perhaps you can ask him when he returns from Vampyrus.”

Finally, they stepped out in a large grassy clearing, circular, with a pavilion in the center—where Hec-Tor and his brother would often have lunch together, when Prime felt the pollen count was low enough that it wouldn’t be too harsh on Hec-Tor’s lungs. The pavilion was covered, so it could be used even when the gardens were running a rain cycle. The floor was covered in colorful mosaics, telling stories of the Auroras of Old, from long before the planetary unification. The tile was a variety of blues and purples, standing out stark against near-black, shining against the overhead lights. Inside the pavilion was a low table and cushions, which was where they would be having tea, once the Etherians arrived.

For now, though, it was just him and Caduceus.

Hec-Tor released his hold on Caduceus’s elbow and made his way over to the polan tree, clasping his hands behind his back as he peered up at the branches. It had mostly been plucked free of fruit by now, with only a few stragglers left hanging on, bowing the branches beneath their weight. With a soft sigh, Hec-Tor settled down on the stone bench that sat just in front of the tree, tucking his legs away at the ankle and resting his hands in his lap. Caduceus lingered nearby, ever observant for threats even here in the heart of the _Velvet Glove_.

Frankly, he was still surprised that his brother had actually suggested inviting the Etherians into the gardens… he had assumed that his brother considered the space too sacred to be… _disturbed_ like that. It was filled with plants that Prime had inherited from their late father, and where he kept and cared for the plants he had found on conquered worlds. Some of those worlds no longer existed—his brother had deemed them too chaotic and disorderly, too threatening to the realm. The gardens were not a place meant for outsiders, and yet…

But Prime did have a point… the gardens would make a very interesting backdrop for tea. None of the dining rooms had anywhere near this much color, and he would be glad to show the Etherians how beautiful the gardens aboard the ship were.

One of Hec-Tor’s ears flicked when he heard footsteps moving across the grass, and when he looked up, he found Queen Glimmer approaching him alongside another Etherian he didn’t recognize—her father, Hec-Tor assumed, although he did not recall inviting King Dowager Micah along for this meeting. They were flanked on either side by their Attendants. Four of them in total, with their hoods drawn up over their heads and their gazes straight ahead. In spite of the attendants, Queen Glimmer held her head high, walking with a purpose. Her regalia had changed little from the last time he had seen her, as she still wore a long gown of silks in various shades of blue, purple, and pink. The fabric seemed to have a natural shimmer to it, much like her hair.

King Dowager Micah was only a little bit taller than she was, and his head barely reached the shoulders of the Attendants flanking them. However, while it was clear where Glimmer had gotten her facial structure from, Micah had long black hair that he wore half-up at the crown of his head. Much to Hec-Tor’s surprise, he also had what appeared to be hair along his jaw and cheeks, and he couldn’t help but wonder if it was an indication of something. Perhaps notoriety, or his prowess? Hec-Tor almost wanted to ask but didn’t want to look foolish. The king dowager’s outfit mirrored his daughter’s, made of the same blue, purple, and pink silks, but unlike her he wasn’t wearing any sort of crown or circlet.

“Your Imperial Highness,” Glimmer said, dipping into a low bow as she stopped before him. Her father followed her lead.

“Please, you can just call me Hec-Tor,” he said although he didn’t rise from his seat.

One of Glimmer’s Attendants seemed surprised by the suggestion, his citrine green eyes widening in the shadow of his hood. “My Prince, that is—”

“It is _fine_ ,” Hec-Tor stated firmly, fixing the Attendant with a hard look. The Attendant exchanged a glance with the others, and none of the four seemed certain of how to handle the situation. Turning his attention back to Glimmer, Hec-Tor allowed his expression to soften again before adding, “I was under the impression we were meant to be making friends? My friends call me Hec-Tor.”

At least, that would have been his preference if he had any friends besides his Minder.

Glimmer said nothing in response, nor did her father. Their expressions were difficult to read, but their postures had stiffened—like a Pyrian’s would have if they were unnerved—even if their unusual rounded ears remained stationary at the sides of their heads. Hec-Tor’s own ears gave a nervous flick as the silence between the three of them stretched on, but he didn’t know what else to really say. He was already failing to be a good host and it had only been five minutes. This would have never happened to his brother…

“… you can sit if you’d prefer,” Hec-Tor finally managed to say, motioning to the spot on the bench beside him with a twitch of his ears. It was long enough that it would fit all three of them. Surely they would have been glad to get off of their feet while they waited for Princess Scorpia to arrive.

Neither of the Etherians moved to take him up on his offer, though, and Hec-Tor felt foolish for suggesting such a thing. He tried to keep his expression neutral, despite the tips of his ears dusting blue as they shifted back against the sides of his head. If the Etherians noticed his embarrassment, however, they didn’t comment on it.

Finally, Micah took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Prince Hec-Tor…” he said and something about his tone came off as distinctly awkward.

“Likewise,” Hec-Tor said, before tilting his head to the side as he peered at Micah. “Now, if you do not mind me asking—” He noticed that both Micah and Glimmer stiffened at that, as though they assumed it would be a terrible question. “—why do you have hair on your face, King Dowager?”

Micah was silent for a moment, seeming dumbfounded by the question. “… do your men not grow it?”

“I don’t understand the question,” Hec-Tor said as one of his ears flicked in confusion, and he found himself wondering what that had to do with anything. 

Perhaps Etherians were like one of the many peoples across the universe who were much more strict about the distinction put upon gender. Pyrians utterly lacked that, and would often flit everywhere and in between as their feelings towards theirs changed. To them, gender was more a form of presentation, rather than something that defined who they were as a member of society—and Hec-Tor had always found it odd that some peoples put so much emphasis on who could do what just because of the pronouns they decided fit them.

“… uh, have we been referring to your and your brother correctly?” Micah asked, almost tentatively.

Hec-Tor blinked in surprise. “Unless Anillis has decided he not longer wishes to use those pronouns, then I assume so?” he said, still not understanding what this had to do with his original question. “Now then, is the hair on your face a sign of age amongst your people? Or perhaps notoriety? Do only those deemed worthy get to grow theirs out?”

If so that said a lot about how their people must have viewed Glimmer’s leadership, since her face was as bare as Hec-Tor’s.

“Uh… _nope_ ,” Micah said before he cleared his throat. “It has nothing to do with—with who is most worthy… and I am not comfortable giving the Imperial Prince a talk about the birds and the bees.”

Hec-Tor frowned at the unfamiliar turn of phrase. “What do birds and bees have to do with this?”

“ _Okay_ , that’s enough,” Glimmer finally spoke up, her voice sharp. “You can go now, Dad.”

Micah hesitated where he stood. “… you’re sure you don’t want me to stay?” he pressed, quiet enough that he might have thought Hec-Tor couldn’t hear what he was saying. “The Imperial Prince seems more—rather reasonable—”

Glimmer shot her father a sharp, irritated look. “ _Yes_.”

Although Micah opened his mouth to argue, he just as quickly closed it again, looking rather defeated. Hec-Tor found himself wondering what had caused Glimmer to become so openly hostile towards her father. Perhaps she was as nervous as Hec-Tor had been about the situation initially, and was lashing out without actually meaning what she was saying. If Glimmer was anything like his brother was to the Etherians, she had many expectations weighing on her shoulders…

“You are free to stay if you wish, King Dowager,” Hec-Tor said, and he meant to it as a gesture of good will. Even though he hadn’t actually invited Micah to join them originally, perhaps her father’s presence would make Glimmer feel better? Hec-Tor always felt safer when his brother was around, after all, and surely it wouldn’t have hurt anything to have Micah stay with them for tea.

“No, no it’s alright. Glimmer is more than capable of handling this without my supervision,” Micah said, shaking his head. And then, to his daughter, he added, “I’ll see you in a couple of hours…”

Glimmer crossed her arms over her chest, and didn’t bother to respond, still seeming to be in a terrible mood. However, as Micah was led away by two of the Attendants who had accompanied them, Glimmer’s expression wavered, even if she didn’t actually turn around to watch her father leave.

“… why are you being so hostile towards your father?” Hec-Tor asked, watching as Micah disappeared from view. “I am certain he was merely worried about—”

Glimmer’s expression immediately hardened again. “You don’t know anything about us.”

Hec-Tor flinched at the chill in her tone, and his ears pinned back nervously, but he took a deep breath to steady his nerves again. Much as she likely thought otherwise, their situations were more alike than Glimmer seemed to believe. His brother would often hover in much the same way, and could become extremely overbearing if he believed Hec-Tor was too nervous to handle a situation. But he decided against bringing that up…

“Why don’t you sit down,” Hec-Tor suggested instead, once again motioning to the bench he was sitting on.

She hesitated, and for a moment, Hec-Tor was worried she would insist she’d prefer to remain standing. However, she moved forward and sat down stiffly beside him on the bench, without looking at him. She had chosen a spot on the complete opposite end from him, as if to put as much distance between the two of them as possible.

“Thank you for having me, Prince Hec-Tor,” Glimmer said, and her voice was as stiff as her posture.

“I believe I said that you could call me by my name, without the title,” Hec-Tor reminded her. “We are here to make friends, yes?”

Although there was no accusation in his tone, Glimmer’s shoulders still stiffened as though there had been. “Your brother—I-I mean, Horde Prime—he said the exact same thing…”

Hec-Tor tilted his head to the side, wondering why she said that as if it was a bad thing. “You and your people are part of the Empire now… that means Anillis considers you a friend.”

Glimmer hesitated, worrying her lower lip between her teeth. Her posture had gone stiff enough that Hec-Tor didn’t think he could have mistaken her emotions for anything other than anxiety, even without the emotive ears. “… I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

Now, Hec-Tor was really confused. His brother had said that the Etherians were involved in a planet wide civil war, and Hec-Tor had come to his own conclusion that it had already spanned at least two generations. Part of his schooling had involved the history of Vampyrus, covering the multiple civil wars that had resulted due to various clans wanting to occupy more territory and the infighting that would follow. The first Horde Prime—Anillis the First—had been the person to bring that to an end, when he had unified the planet beneath the banner of Clan Kur.

It only made sense that his brother’s guidance was now needed to help the Etherians straighten out their issues, and Prime was very gifted at such things. He had quelled many similar wars, when the planet was too chaotic and disorderly to handle it themselves… and he was often _thanked_ for it, from what Hec-Tor had seen. Why wasn’t Glimmer thankful that she no longer had to fight with her own people?

“Is it just the two of us today, or…?” Glimmer asked, her voice still stiff.

Hec-Tor quickly shook his head. “Anillis wished for me to entertain both you and Princess Scorpia while he was away… I sent you both an invitation, and—and was very pleased when you agreed to meet with me again.”

Glimmer’s gaze darted over to where Caduceus had remained standing nearby, still as a statue. “Your Attendant was very polite when he delivered your invitation.”

Although Caduceus said nothing, he did dip his head in acknowledgment of her words, even if his expression remained otherwise impassive.

Silence lapsed between the two of them again. As he fiddled with the hem of his sleeve, Hec-Tor’s ears began twitching against the sides of his head. He wasn’t sure how to continue the conversation, and he didn’t think Glimmer would take kindly to him asking further questions about her people and their customs, even if he was only coming from a place of curiosity. Talking had been much easier with Entrapta—both when they had spoken in person and the letters they had exchanged over the last couple of days—but she was also far more easy going than Glimmer seemed to be…

But Hec-Tor could tell that Glimmer was still wary of him, and she either didn’t care about what he had to say or she held a vested interest in ignoring him.

Fidgeting in his seat, Hec-Tor glanced at the gardens around them, trying to find something to talk about. Prime would have had an easier time of this—he knew all about the plants in the gardens, as botany was something of a specialty of his. Flora and fauna was one of the few scientific fields Hec-Tor hadn’t really held much interest in. His eyes finally fell upon a tree that was across the clearing from them, on the other side of the pavilion. It was one of the oldest amongst Prime’s collection, far older than either of them.

“I climbed that tree once when I was a pup,” Hec-Tor said, awkwardly motioning to the tree in question—he couldn’t remember the species, even though he was certain his brother had mentioned it once, a long time ago.

Glimmer looked at him in surprise, her brow furrowing. The awkwardness was palpable in the air.

But rather than holding his tongue, Hec-Tor _kept going_ , unable to stop himself even as heat flared across the tips of his ears. “My brother nearly had a heart attack. He was shouting at the Attendants to get me down. I didn’t even get that far, but I had slipped on a branch and I think Anillis thought I was scared… or that I’d fall and break something.”

The words kept coming out of his mouth before he could stop them, not allowing Glimmer a moment to get a word in, even if she had wanted to speak. As he came to the end of his story, however, Hec-Tor cleared his throat awkwardly and averted his gaze again. “Anillis… he—he had a tendency to fret… when I was little…” he finally said.

To his surprise, Glimmer let out a soft hum as she wrung her hands together awkwardly in her lap. Then, she smiled sadly and reached up to fiddle with one of the teardrop earrings dangling from her ears. “My mother was always like that…” she said in a hollow sort of voice. “She had a garden like this, before…”

Hec-Tor’s ears drooped as he peered at her, recognizing the signs of all-encompassing grief. The far-off, glazed over look in her eyes, the way her entire body had gone stiff as the memories took hold, how her voice shook as she held back tears. Although he was tempted to ask her what had happened to her mother, he caught himself—it must have been very traumatic for her, if she was acting so similarly to how Prime did when their parents were brought up without any preamble.

“I know my words probably mean little to you… but I am sorry for your loss,” he said sincerely. “May her light never fade…”

Glimmer’s gaze hardened again, her mouth setting in a hard line. “What do you care?”

“Because I can sympathize… my father died delivering me,” Hec-Tor explained. Unlike her, there was no shake in his voice, no glazed over look in his eye. His posture remained as lax as it had been before… and guilt over how unaffected he was by that twisted in the pit of his gut. The deaths of their parents had never affected him the same way it had with Prime… but he had never even known them in the first place.

At the admission, Glimmer’s gaze softened—if only just a touch. “… Horde Prime never mentioned that.”

That caused Hec-Tor’s ears to give a sardonic twitch. “I would be surprised if he had… Anillis doesn’t speak of them, if he can help it,” he said, before realizing what he had just said. He peered at her, a frown worrying its way onto his features. “I would advise against mentioning them…”

To his surprise, Glimmer didn’t look particularly worried about potentially offending his brother—in his experience, most people did. Rather, she was peering at him, and there was something in her eyes that Hec-Tor didn’t quite know how to identify without her ears accentuating her expressions. Still, he didn’t think she looked angry at him giving her a well-meaning suggestion, despite their previous interactions making it clear she didn’t appreciate it.

“Why?” she finally said.

“Because I do not wish to see my brother upset,” Hec-Tor said simply, even though it should have been an obvious conclusion for her to come to, as she had gone through a similar experience. “And mentioning Father and _ami_ would upset him greatly.”

“… you think very highly of Horde Prime,” Glimmer mused.

The sharpness in her voice caused Hec-Tor to pause and look at her more closely. Why did that sound like an accusation? Nervousness crept its way back into his gut, beneath her stare. While he had initially assumed that Glimmer was too young to rule—that she wasn’t ready for her position—now he found that she had a certain presence to her. Like she could command a room if it had suited her.

“Of course I do?” Hec-Tor said, not understanding what that had to do with anything. “He is Horde Prime Anillis, Fifth of His Name, the Emperor of the Known Universe and Defender of the Realm, Bringer of Light and Destroyer of Shadows…”

Glimmer stared at him. "That is a lot of titles."

“You’ll find that Horde Primes often have several,” Hec-Tor said, and in spite of the nervousness twisting in his chest, he managed to crack a smile. “Our father was known as Horde Prime Ar-Tor the Valiant, our grandmother Horde Prime Livia the Just… but regardless of his titles, Anillis is also my brother and the Protector of the Spire. I trust his judgment in anything he does.”

“Does that include hiding you away within the ‘spire’?” Glimmer asked.

Hec-Tor’s smile immediately fell away, his ears pinning back against the sides of his head. “My—My brother only wants what is best for me,” he said stiffly. Even if he often disagreed with his brother’s methods, Hec-Tor was still confident that his brother only had his best interests at heart. When Prime felt it was safe enough for Hec-Tor to leave the _Velvet Glove_ , then he would allow him to leave… surely he would.

“Well, you don’t sound so sure,” Glimmer said, tilting her head to the side with a tight smile. “What if he never lets you go?”

Hec-Tor’s own gaze hardened, his ears twitching uneasily against the sides of his head. “You do not know my brother as I do,” he said, his voice little more than a soft hiss. His brother only wanted what was best for him, what could a little queen from a backwater planet know about such things?

With a huff, Glimmer turned away again, her gaze darting around the gardens to try and find something else to look at besides him. It allowed Hec-Tor a moment of reprieve, long enough to collect himself… and realize he had just blundered horribly. He had assumed that he had come to some form of understanding with her, but evidently, he had been mistaken. His brother would have never ended up in a situation like that, nor would he have lost his temper over something so inconsequential as a little queen trying to purposefully get under his skin.

He took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself. Getting so worked up that he made himself pass out by accident would have been a terrible experience. Besides, he was not here for his own benefit, much as he might have been genuine about wanting to make friends. He was here because Prime had asked it of him, and he was not going to disappoint his brother. Nor was he going to send Prime into a bout of fretting by fainting while he was away from the ship.

“My Prince, has Queen Glimmer upset you?” 

The Attendant’s voice was hard as he and his fellow guard peered at Glimmer through narrowed eyes. Although their ears were hidden out of sight beneath their hoods, there was little doubt in Hec-Tor’s mind that theirs had pinned back tight against the sides of their heads. The lip of one had curled back into the makings of a snarl, displaying his sharp canines, while the other’s stance had shifted and Hec-Tor caught the flash of his talons as he flexed his hand. It was enough to remind him that Attendants did not need to carry weapons when they were the weapons themselves.

Beside him, Glimmer had gone completely still and her eyes widened a fraction in a manner that Hec-Tor found he could only describe as fright. There was something in her expression that set his ears tilting, confusion over why she was acting like that. Surely she knew the Attendants meant her no harm? He had never seen one actually act on their fronting. 

“She… she has not upset me so badly that I wish for her to be removed,” Hec-Tor said and he was sincere. “Stand down. Please.”

When neither Attendant did so immediately, Hec-Tor cast a pleading look in Caduceus’s direction. Although he still appeared to be alert, he hadn’t immediately bared his canines and flashed his talons over something so inconsequential. At Hec-Tor’s look, his gaze softened, just a touch.

“Stand down,” Caduceus ordered, his voice firm. “Queen Glimmer is no threat.”

—

Scorpia arrived shortly thereafter—alone, thankfully. Hec-Tor didn’t think he would have found the courage to tell Shadow Weaver that she wasn’t welcome if she had decided she wanted to stay with her ward. Not wanting to linger on any thoughts of that witch, Hec-Tor had immediately moved to the pavilion.

Food had been laid out across the low table at the very center, mostly small finger foods that could be easily eaten without utensils. There was also tea, which was served by one of the Attendants as they took their seats. Hec-Tor sat across from the two Etherians, as he had during their last meeting. While Glimmer avoided looking at him and didn’t move to take anything to eat, Scorpia eagerly began piling her plate high with some of the food that was served. Hec-Tor’s ears twitched in amusement at the sight.

But his amusement was short-lived as he tried to think of some kind of conversation starter. He knew he had already ruined his chances of speaking with Glimmer—at least for this meeting—but because of that, he found it difficult to find something to say to Scorpia. The only thing that came to mind was that embarrassing story he had told Glimmer earlier, and he didn’t want to repeat himself or give Glimmer ammunition to make a fool out of him. Thankfully, it seemed the Etherians were still refusing to speak to one another.

The hydroponics system switched on before he could think of something to say. One of his ears twitched as he listened to the patter of water against the roof of the pavilion.

“ _Ooh_!” Scorpia said, clutching a bite-sized fruit tart in one of her large pedipalps as she looked out over the clearing. “It can rain in here?”

“Technically, it’s not rain,” Hec-Tor said, watching the water fall. “It’s the hydroponics system, which is fed by the water recyclers.

A soft smile appeared on Scorpia’s lips. “Oh! Y’know, Entrapta thought that was what might be going on! I’ll have to tell her when we get back. She’ll be so excited!”

Hec-Tor returned her smile, already feeling just a touch better. “Please do,” he said as he reached out to pick up his tea. Fragrant steam rolled off the surface and he caught the scent of _rosa_ on the roof of his mouth. “I would tell her myself, but we are not working together in person until the sword has been retrieved from Etheria and returned here for study.”

Glimmer coughed loudly and her tea cup clattered back onto its saucer.

“… are you alright?” Hec-Tor asked, and he found that even Scorpia looked concerned.

“ _Fine_!” Glimmer snapped, her voice hoarse. She let out another harsh cough and then seemed to recover better. “I’m fine.”

Hec-Tor almost retorted, but Glimmer shot him a glare and he decided against it. His ears gave an uneasy twitch as he looked back at Scorpia. “You speak with Entrapta often, then?”

“We’re friends!” Scorpia said with a grin. “Shadow Weaver has me keep Entrapta on track, so we spend a lot of time together. She’s super excited to work with you, though.”

The tips of Hec-Tor’s ears dusted blue beneath his ear ornamentation. Idly, he swirled the liquid around in his cup, struggling to find something to say in return that he hadn’t already said to Entrapta in their letters. It didn’t seem as though Scorpia was technologically inclined, so he didn’t want to bore her with his ramblings… he doubted Glimmer would tolerate them either.

He couldn’t help but notice that once again, Scorpia wore very little regalia that would have been befitting of her title, and his ears gave a curious twitch at that. “Scorpia… you are a princess, yes?”

Scorpia tilted her head to the side, blinking in what might have been surprise. “Yup. Not of Mystacor, though,” she said, shaking her head quickly before she plucked up another fruit tart into her pedipalp and popped it into her mouth. She hummed softly in appreciation at the taste, and then after she had swallowed, added, “My queendom is out by the Crimson Waste!”

Hec-Tor almost asked where that was, but realized that he would very quickly become distracted if they began discussing the locale of Etheria. Useful though the information might have been, it wasn’t what he was after. “You are a princess, and yet you do not seem to wear regalia that indicates you as such… why are you not, at the very least, wearing ear ornamentation?”

“Ear ornamentation?” Scorpia repeated as she reached out and began trying to grasp her tea cup in her pedipalps. Much like during their last meeting, the cup slipped from her grasp and lightly clinked on its saucer. “Like earrings and stuff?”

Hec-Tor nodded. “Do you and your people not hold significance in such things?” 

At the very least, Glimmer and Bright Moon seemed to. She and her father both wore the same teardrop earrings made of opalescent stone. He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at Shadow Weaver’s ears to see if she wore anything similar, though.

Scorpia appeared curious at the question. “Earrings are just… earrings? I mean, I guess they could be a status symbol if they’re fancy, but they’re just jewelry,” she said, before her eyes darted to the ear ornamentation that Hec-Tor was wearing over his own ears. “Why? Do you?”

Hec-Tor reached up and slid his ear clasp off from over his ear. Carefully, he held it out in the flat of his palm so that both Scorpia and Glimmer could see the back of it. “Amongst Pryians, ear ornamentation is one of the most important aspects of our appearance… this here—” He lightly ran his fingers along a stylized etching of outstretched wings that mirror those embroidered across the front of his dress. “—is the symbol of my birth clan, the Kurs. And these—” He tapped two dots, one on either side of the top-most juts in the wings. “—mark me as the second child of my generation’s clan head. My father, Ar-Tor, in this case. Even the metal indicates the wealth of my family.”

“Whoa…” Scorpia breathed, and even Glimmer looked mildly intrigued.

“A Pyrian’s ear ornamentation is laced with symbolism,” Hec-Tor explained as he carefully slipped the ear clasp back over the shell of his ear. “It tells our life stories, from our clan, to how many siblings we have, to our marital status… a Pyrian is not considered a person unless they wear some form of ear ornamentation.”

His ears gave an uncomfortable flick at the words, and he tried very hard to not look at any of the Attendants. He knew none of them wore ear ornamentation beneath their hoods, and he clearly remembered Caduceus had once claimed he didn’t _want_ any when Hec-Tor, in his pup-ish naivete, had insisted he could ask Prime for a pair for Caduceus.

Hec-Tor forced such thoughts from his head and gave a tight smile, hoping neither of them had noticed. “As I’ve said, I have never left the _Velvet Glove_ , so I have very little experience with other peoples customs, curious as I am.”

To his surprise, it was Glimmer that spoke up. “Soooo… it’s just you and Horde Prime then?” she asked. “No other family?”

“Our uncle,” Hec-Tor said. His father’s younger brother, if he remembered correctly. Whether he had any living relatives within his _ami_ ’s birth clan—the Nyx—he didn’t know. He assumed so, since Nevere had been the youngest of seven siblings, but every other member of the Kur Clan had been dead since before Hec-Tor had managed to choke down his first breath.

“Um… I’m named after him?” he added awkwardly, glancing between the two Etherians.

“Oh, that’s cute!” Scorpia said with a bright smile. “Is he nice?”

Hec-Tor didn’t actually know much about his uncle aside from them sharing a name. Their uncle hadn’t been seen in court since the deaths of their parents, and the only reason that Hec-Tor even knew what his uncle looked like was because of his military portraits, which had been painted prior to his retirement. Blue skin, like his father, but where his father had snow white hair, his uncle had dark blue hair. His uncle also had bright red eyes, in comparison to his father’s green, which his brother had inherited and Hec-Tor had—

Feeling a headache beginning to creep up, Hec-Tor quickly shifted his thoughts away from his uncle. Regardless of where he had gone, Hec-Tor recalled asking his brother about their uncle only once in his life. When he had, Prime had called the man a ‘snorting buffoon’ and made it clear he was more than happy to keep his distance. That their uncle wasn’t welcome in court.

“I’ve never met him,” Hec-Tor admitted, which seemed to surprise both Glimmer and Scorpia. Suddenly feeling very nervous beneath their stares, Hec-Tor averted his gaze back to his slowly cooling tea. Perhaps it was an Etherian thing… knowing your relatives well.

“Does that mean your brother isn’t married?” Scorpia asked as she tried again to pick up her tea cup. Her tongue poked out from between her teeth in concentration. “I mean, there’s not an… Empress hiding somewhere, is there?”

“Imperial Consort,” Hec-Tor said, correcting her terminology without a second thought.

He debated on how to answer the question, as he didn’t know how to describe the intricacies of his brother’s feelings on the subject. He doubted Prime would approve… even though the answer seemed simple enough. His brother had never seemed to care for such things, even though he was old enough at this point he should have been. When Hec-Tor was younger, he had been looking forward to his brother marrying, if only so he had someone else to talk to that wasn’t his brother or an Attendant. But Prime had always insisted that Hec-Tor was more important, that he needed him more than a spouse ever could.

A sharp crash sounded across the table from him, and Hec-Tor stiffened in his seat. The tea cup that Scorpia had been fumbling with lay shattered upon its saucer, and horror had spread across Scorpia’s face.

“I am— _so_ —sorry, your Highness!” she squeaked.

Hec-Tor frowned in confusion, not understanding why she was so frightened… until there was a flicker of movement behind Scorpia. One of the Attendants who had accompanied her was advanced, his lip curled back in a snarl, his eyes flashing bright green in the shadow of his hood. An uneasy shiver ran up Hec-Tor’s spine at the sight.

“Wait, what are you doing…?” Hec-Tor asked, trailing off as he waited for the Attendant to give his serial number. He tried to keep his voice level, even though he was growing as nervous as the Etherians looked.

The Attendant, however, did not identify himself—he didn’t even seem to understand that was what Hec-Tor had paused for. “There is no need to be frightened, your Highness,” he said simply, pausing behind Scorpia. “I will remove Princess Scorpia before she can harm you.”

Hec-Tor _wasn’t_ frightened, though—at least, not by whatever Scorpia had done. She had dropped a cup because she had struggled to hold it. He had done the same multiple times on account of his hand tremors, and the Attendants had never acted like an assassination attempt was taking place before their very eyes. His ears began twitching uneasily against the sides of his head. “She… she dropped a cup, nothing more?” Hec-Tor said as his brow knit together in confusion. “There is no reason—”

“Horde Prime expressed to those of us he deemed trustworthy that the Etherians might attempt something like this,” the Attendant cut in, frowning deeply from beneath his hood.

Hec-Tor’s heart stuttered in his chest as his brother’s words the previous day came to the forefront of his mind.

_Do not worry, Hec-Tor._

_I will make sure all of the Attendants on duty are high alert._

_You’ll be perfectly safe._

“No,” Hec-Tor said, unsure of who exactly he was speaking to—his brother’s voice in his head, the Attendant standing opposite of him, or himself. Surely, if Scorpia had meant him true harm, she wouldn’t have been so stupid as to attempt it when they were surrounded by guards in a well-lit pavilion. “She—She dropped a _cup_! That does not mean—”

“My Prince, she might have intended to harm you with a shard of ceramic,” Scorpia’s second Attendant said as he approached the table, taking position beside the other. Scorpia had gone deathly pale before them, frozen in place with eyes the size of saucers.

He had to put a stop to this—he had to—

“Do you _really_ believe she is capable of picking up a shard of ceramic with the intent to harm me, when she couldn’t even hold the cup in the first place?!” Hec-Tor snapped, his ears drooping at the sides of his head. “Stand down and stop this at once. You are unjustly accusing her of a crime she hasn’t committed!”

Both Attendants stared at him as though they were unsure of what to do, now that he had made it clear he was unhappy with their actions. He didn’t interact with the Attendants enough to read them as easily as he could with Caduceus, though. When he was younger, he had always felt safe with them all the same, but this…

The second Attendant spoke up after a moment. “Horde Prime instructed us to—”

“You can inform my brother that I am not so naive that I can’t tell when someone makes an honest mistake,” Hec-Tor said tersely. That was all it was. Scorpia had been struggling to hold her tea cup ever since they had sat down, and she had done the same during their last meeting as well. He knew what he saw, and to insist he didn’t…

Had he known the Attendants would assume the worst of her, Hec-Tor would have suggested an alternative means of her drinking her tea. Unlike her guardian, Hec-Tor had yet to find a reason to fear Scorpia. She had been nothing but kind to him, curious and willing to ask questions or give him answers to his own. And Entrapta spoke to her about her interests, which seemed like a good indicator of Scorpia’s character. His brother evidently believed Scorpia to be dangerous, but Hec-Tor couldn’t understand why.

The Attendants glanced away from him—first at each other, their brows pinching in confusion, before they looked behind him…

… to Caduceus, he realized.

His Minder was lingering close, and must have moved forward from his spot against the pavilion’s railing when Scorpia had dropped her cub. Now, the Attendants looked to him for answers, rather than their Prince. Hec-Tor cast a pleading look over his shoulder, hoping that Caduceus understood.

“Fetch another cup for Princess Scorpia,” Caduceus said simply, his tone clipped.

The Attendants hesitated, exchanging another glance. “But—”

“I am Horde Prime’s most trusted,” Caduceus continued. “If you wish to bother him with frivolous matters when he is otherwise busy with his duties to the Order, by all means. Perhaps he’ll be in a good enough mood to overlook any missteps you have made, such as upsetting Prince Hec-Tor.”

Without a word, the Attendants finally— _finally_ —stepped away from Scorpia, leaving her unharmed. One returned to his original position, near the lounge on the far side of the pavilion, while the other disappeared into the gardens, even as water continued falling from the hydroponics system.

But it wasn’t enough, and Hec-Tor was left staring at Scorpia and Glimmer across from him, unable to find his voice. Nothing he had ever experienced could have prepared for the very people he had always seen as protectors, acting so rashly… seemingly on his brother’s orders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: one minder of space
> 
> oh dear, i can't imagine how this might've shattered some of hec-tor's worldview uwu


	7. One Minder of Space

Hec-Tor didn’t reach out to the Etherians again. Any of the Etherians, as terrible as he felt about leaving Entrapta waiting for a response. The latest of her letters sat on his nightstand, unread by anybody except perhaps Caduceus. Much as Hec-Tor wanted to respond to her, the disastrous meeting with Scorpia and Glimmer had left him thoroughly shaken, and he hadn’t been able to find the peace of mind to respond to Entrapta with as much enthusiasm as he would have liked.

If Caduceus had noticed his sudden shift in mood—his sudden lack of interest in sending letters down to the Guest Wing—he said nothing, and continued about as though nothing had changed. Nor had he commented on what had happened in the gardens, despite his intervention preventing the worst from happening. Hec-Tor could appreciate that, at least…

Outside of the occasional stray message, Prime had also remained too busy to speak with him, so Hec-Tor hadn’t found the opportunity to ask his brother about what had happened. Even though he had tried to go over what had happened over and over again in his mind, none of it made sense to him. He had never seen the Attendants act that way before. None of them had ever given him reason to believe they would harm someone who wasn’t a threat to his or Prime’s safety. 

And yet, his brother’s words echoed in the back of his mind, telling him not to worry, that he would handle the situation, that Hec-Tor would be perfectly safe. None of it made sense to him. Even if he had been nervous about meeting with the Etherians, Hec-Tor hadn’t thought that they'd try to assassinate him in broad daylight, so why had Prime thought so? Surely he hadn’t meant for the Attendants to act like little more than mindless attack dogs over something so inconsequential…

“Hec-Tor, would you like some tea?” 

Caduceus’s voice dragged Hec-Tor from his thoughts, and he glanced away from his datapad as his Minder strode along the length of the sectional. He paused behind where Hec-Tor was seated, curled up against the sectional’s arm, and then peered over Hec-Tor’s shoulder at the datapad’s screen. At the sight of a file from the Archives, his ears gave a curious flutter.

“Tea, then,” Caduceus said, rising back to his full height. “Tea always helps with your thoughts.”

“Rosa, please,” Hec-Tor called after him and Caduceus flicked his ears in acknowledgement before disappearing into the small kitchenette off the main Creche. With a soft sigh, Hec-Tor turned his attention back to his datapad.

Entrapta’s letters had given him a plethora of new search terms. While his initial search for ‘runestone’ had turned up nothing of note, he had been hopeful that their proper names might. It made sense to him that the runestones were more likely to be referred to by their names than by what they were. The Oasis of Auroras was very rarely referred to as a city, even though that was what it was. Any Pyrian would have known what the name referred to, as it was the capital of the planet and the main seat of their religion. Hec-Tor assumed it was similar for the runestones.

But ‘Black Garnet’ and ‘Moonstone’ yielded nothing of note, nor did ‘Mystacor’ or ‘Bright Moon’. Hec-Tor was desperate enough for even a scrap of information that he even typed in ‘Crimson Waste’, remembering Scorpia had mentioned it in passing. But even that revealed nothing about Etheria. Instead, he learned that it was a very common name for deserts across the cosmos, on planets that unlike Vampyrus, had multiple biomes across their surfaces.

There was one search parameter, however, that did turn up something. ‘Sword of Protection’ had been a phrase Entrapta used repeatedly in her letters, when referring to the weapon belonging to the Guardian—or ‘She Ra’, if Hec-Tor was remembering her words correctly. When Hec-Tor had searched for ‘Sword of Protection’ in the Archives, he had actually found a file… one that was very heavily degraded, nearly lost to digital decay. But one line stuck out to him.

—call it the Sword of Protection—very dangerous—

Hec-Tor frowned at the words before glancing at the author—Horde Prime Anillis, Third of Her Name. She had ruled Vampyrus just before the Eternian Empire’s total collapse, dying mere years before the universe had been plunged into a period of political unrest as the most prominent planets tried to fill the power vacuum left behind by the Eternians. Evidently, the Primes of Old had known something about the sword. Or known of it, at least. While the file was too degraded to read, Hec-Tor felt it was reasonable to assume the sword had something to do with the Eternians.

“Here,” Caduceus said, carefully setting the tea down in front of Hec-Tor. “Be careful. It’s hot.”

“Thank you,” Hec-Tor said as he sat up and set his datapad to the side. He took a deep inhale of the fragrant steam rolling off the surface of the tea.

Caduceus dipped his head in acknowledgment before he sat down at the other end of the sectional and returned to his embroidery—one of Hec-Tor’s skirts this time. “Do you have anything else you want embroidered?” he asked, almost absently. His ears had shifted forward, his attention completely trained on the project he held in his hands. “I’m almost out of thread… I would need to put in a requisition for some more if there’s something else…”

He trailed off awkwardly, and didn’t finish his thought.

“I have several more dresses that could use it,” Hec-Tor said, his own ears at complete ease. “My other nightgowns are rather bare in comparison to the one you just finished.”

“Silver thread again?” Caduceus asked. “More stars?”

A small smile appeared on Hec-Tor’s features. “If you think that would be best.”

“Very well, then… I’ll put in the requisition—” 

Abruptly, Caduceus cut off and his entire body went rigid. His gaze moved away from his embroidery, lingering on the main doors of the Creche. Without a word, he reached for his hood, carefully pulling it over his head and tucking his ears out of view. A mere moment later, the doors to the Creche opened, revealing a huffing Attendant.

“Hello!” the Attendant said before he seemed to realize his impropriety, and hastily bowed at the waist. “I—I have a message for Prince Hec-Tor.”

Caduceus rose from his seat, carefully setting his embroidery to the side. “Give it here,” he said, holding out his hand for the message and the Attendant handed it over without a word. As Caduceus broke the seal and began skimming it, Hec-Tor was struck by how young the Attendant looked beside him. Although Caduceus wasn’t old by Pyrian standards, he had always appeared to be a fair bit older than the majority of Attendants. This one in particular looked younger than Hec-Tor did, and appeared as he had when he was on the very tail end of his adolescence.

“What is your serial number?” Hec-Tor asked.

“… that—that is not important, my Prince,” the Attendant said hastily, his cheeks dusting blue as he shook his head.

“It is to me,” Hec-Tor retorted with a frown. “Please, so that I know how to properly address you.”

The Attendant hesitated, his ears shifting beneath his hood. “Six-Two—” he cleared his throat awkwardly and bowed his head. “626-21602, my Prince.”

“And what is the message you brought, 626-21602?” Hec-Tor asked, tilting his head to the side.

It was Caduceus who answered, however. “Horde Prime will be returning soon,” he said, carefully refolding the message. “After he retrieves the sword from Etheria.”

Hec-Tor abruptly stood, his heart leaping into his throat. “They finally found it?”

“Yes, my Prince,” Six-Two-Six said, his eyes alight. “I—I was on duty when the Archivists received the message from the Command Drone who oversees Etheria, and I was instructed to forward this to you after I made contact with Horde Prime and informed him of the situation.”

An Archivist then, not an Attendant. There was no deviation between their uniforms, though, so it was often difficult to tell until they actually spoke of their duties. Up until this point, Hec-Tor had had very little interaction with the Archivists, but he knew one of their duties was cataloging ingoing and outgoing transmissions from the Command Drones scattered across the Empire.

“When will he return?” Hec-Tor asked, looking at Caduceus again. “Did he say?”

“Soon,” Caduceus repeated, without meeting Hec-Tor’s gaze. “He said he might be delayed.”

Hec-Tor frowned—Prime had already been gone for close to two weeks. What could possibly have happened that could delay him even further?

As if he was aware of Hec-Tor’s thoughts, Caduceus shot him a look. “The sword was damaged, Hec-Tor. Shattered into at least a dozen pieces.”

—

Elation at learning his brother was finally returning to the  _ Velvet Glove _ gave way to impatience, but Hec-Tor knew there was little he could actually do to change things. Etheria was several days' travel from where they were now, from what little Caduceus knew—or was willing to tell him—and even the most advanced of hyperdrives still needed time to cool between jumps. It took nearly a week to receive word from his brother’s shuttle that he would be arriving within the day, right before it entered hyperspace.

The docking bay was mostly deserted around them, save for a few Attendants who were carrying out their duties. Hec-Tor stared straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the translucent barrier that looked out onto the stars, waiting for his brother’s shuttle to enter the system. Caduceus stood beside him, still as a waiting statue and unspeaking.

Hec-Tor looked the part of an Imperial Prince, dressed in some of his nicest silks—sweeping panes of white fabric followed him in a train of molten silver, accented by black and gray along his shoulders and arms. The inner lining of his skirts were bright citrine green, matching his jewelry, and there was the slightest of dips in the fabric around his collarbones, revealing a flash of his throat. His ear ornamentation consisted of white gold chains studded with bright green gemstones, and dangling from each of his lobes was an eight-pointed starburst charm that glowed at the center—the symbol of the Eternal Light. 

Caduceus had assured him that anyone who saw him would be most impressed, but Hec-Tor tried not to think of how they had strode directly through the Guest Wing to get here. While they hadn’t run across any of the Etherians, there was still a chance of doing so when they left later. He would have been happy to see Entrapta or perhaps Scorpia, but he took a deep breath, trying to push the thought of running into Shadow Weaver from his mind. They had only interacted twice but that was more than enough for him. 

He was brought out of his thoughts as a ship dropped out of hyperspace near the  _ Velvet Glove _ . His brother’s personal shuttle. Prime had finally returned home. It would be quite a while yet before things could return to the way they had been before—how they were supposed to be—but his brother returning meant even the smallest steps back towards some semblance of normalcy. Rather than begin pacing anxiously across the docking bay, though, Hec-Tor carefully tucked his hands at the small of his back and began running his thumb over the embroidery that ran along the hem of his sleeve. Caduceus had put it there with the last of the thread he had, mere days before.

“Are you feeling alright, Hec-Tor?” Caduceus asked in a low voice. Although his hood was up, obscuring most of his expression from view, there was still a pinch to his brow. His eyes darted to how Hec-Tor was thumbing the embroidery along the hem of his sleeve.

“I am fine,” Hec-Tor said, shaking his head.

If Caduceus noticed the lie, he said nothing. “If you are feeling unwell, Horde Prime will understand if you aren’t here to greet him.”

“I don’t want to disappoint Anillis,” Hec-Tor retorted—and he very much wanted to see his brother after three weeks of separation regardless. “Won’t he be upset if I’m not here?”

A soft sound left Caduceus’s throat and it took Hec-Tor a moment to recognize it as the makings of a mirthless chuckle. “Horde Prime could never be upset with you, Hec-Tor. If you wish to return to the Creche, you need only say the word. He will understand.”

Hec-Tor sighed. “I know.”

One of Caduceus’s ears shifted beneath the fabric of his hood before his gaze shot in the direction of the barrier. While Prime’s shuttle passed through a moment later, Hec-Tor’s attention fixed on the bizarre looking ship that accompanied it. 

Where most Pyrian vessels were made up of smooth lines and most often took the form of spires when they weren’t folded in on themselves for ease of movement, this ship was very angular, its shape reminding him of a jagged stone. Bright lines covered the hull, and Hec-Tor was struck by how similar they looked to the etchings on the tech crystal that still sat on his nightstand. As it slowly touched down on the far side of the docking bay, the lights around it wavered in brightness, but it didn’t cause a total blackout like Etheria’s emergence from Despondos had. 

“By the Light…” Caduceus whispered. “Where did they find…”

Hec-Tor found himself at a loss for words, utterly enthralled by the sight of what was almost certainly a First One’s ship. Were the Etherians aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ aware of its existence? Surely Entrapta wouldn’t have failed to mention something so pertinent to her research… unless she hadn’t been entirely truthful in her letters.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed one of your gifts.” 

Prime’s voice echoed across the docking bay, drawing Hec-Tor’s gaze away from the First One’s ship. He hadn’t even noticed that his brother’s shuttle had touched down not far from where he and Caduceus stood. Prime slowly descended from the shuttle, an easy smile playing on his lips. Much like Hec-Tor, he was dressed in finery—from his dress of flowing white fabric to his ear ornamentation that was studded with citrine gemstones. Atop his head sat a crown, spanning out like rays of sunlight.

“One of my gifts?” Hec-Tor repeated, returning his brother’s smile.

“Indeed. I brought back several,” Prime said, stopping mere feet away. When he opened his arms, Hec-Tor took that as an invitation to greet his brother as he had wanted to. He darted forward into his brother’s arms, butting the crown of his head against the underside of Prime’s jaw. An amused chirp left his brother’s throat. “Oh, come now, Hec-Tor…” he teased lightly. “I was never far…”

Hec-Tor ignored the comment, his ears flicking in the direction of the First One’s ship. “Where did you find that?”

Prime’s own ears flicked dismissively as he released Hec-Tor. “Does it matter? It is yours now,” he said, easy smile never fading as he lightly pressed his fingers together at the tips. “Now then, I thought I would miss you, in the event you were meeting with the Etherians again.”

At the comment—one that Prime likely thought innocuous—Hec-Tor’s heart stuttered in his chest.

It had been close to a week since the incident that had occurred in the gardens, but Hec-Tor found that the events were still sharp in his mind. The relative ease of conversation, Scorpia’s innocent curiosity about his familial situation. The shattering of a teacup cutting through the din as it slipped through Scorpia’s pedipalps. His fear as the Attendants immediately jumped to defend him from a perceived threat.

Horde Prime expressed to those of us he deemed trustworthy that the Etherians might attempt something like this.

And yet, Hec-Tor still didn’t believe that Scorpia had ever meant him harm. It had been nothing more than an unfortunate accident.

“What troubles you so, little one?” Prime asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “Are you unwell?”

Without waiting for an answer, he raised his hand. His fingers were poised to snap and wordlessly beckon Caduceus forward to guide Hec-Tor away.

Hec-Tor quickly shook his head, smiling tightly. “I am fine.”

“Then I do not understand why your ears are drooping,” Prime said—his easy smile did not return. “I am home now, and I will not be leaving again for some time, even if Alekos asks for me again. There is no reason to be upset.”

Biting back a retort about how he wasn’t listening, Hec-Tor took a deep breath. “I… something—something happened while you were gone and I—I wanted to ask you about it. That’s all.”

Prime’s expression shifted, his lip curling in distaste. “Oh, yes… I heard that Lady Shadow Weaver’s ward attempted to harm you,” he said, his tone like ice. “She has assured me that Princess Scorpia was disciplined for her error, but if you were truly so frightened, I can double her guard.”

“No! No, that—that won’t be necessary,” Hec-Tor said, taking a step away from his brother. He tucked his hands behind his back again, thumbing along the embroidery at the hem of his sleeve again in an attempt to quell his nerves. “They—the Attendants, I mean… they said that you ordered them to—”

“You were nervous, and I do not like seeing you so upset,” Prime insisted.

“But she didn’t do anything!” Hec-Tor retorted, his temper flaring. “The Attendants do not need to act as though they are little more than attack dogs, Anillis! Surely they are capable of judging when something is actively trying to harm me.”

Prime was silent, although whether or not he was mulling over what Hec-Tor had said, he couldn’t tell. Then, his ears twitched dismissively again. “… perhaps I put too much faith in their abilities to tell the difference,” he admitted. “They did what they felt they must, as my final order to them was to ensure your protection.”

“… so it was a misunderstanding?” Hec-Tor asked tentatively, feeling a twinge of relief in his chest. Was that really all it had been?

“Your safety was paramount…” Prime said, and his easy smile returned. “Far be it from me to deny them their purpose.”

Although Hec-Tor was still unsure, he found that he could only give a tiny nod. His voice had become lodged in his throat, but he tried to push any lingering thoughts on the Attendants from his mind.

“Now then, the rest of your gifts,” Prime said, half-turning away in the direction of his shuttle. An Attendant was making his way down the loading ramp, carrying a tray laden with gifts—from finely crafted jewelry to a small black orb that Hec-Tor couldn’t identify.

Wordlessly, Caduceus took a step forward and carefully picked the small black orb up. It was roughly the size of a ripe polan fruit, resting easily in the flat of Caduceus’s palm. There were shallow lines running along the middle of the orb, and Hec-Tor noticed that the top half was slightly off-color compared to the bottom. There was also a small divot just below the lines that looked like a button—it must have been a piece of tech.

“One of the acolytes bestowed this upon me,” Prime said, his ears shifting forward in interest. “It is my understanding that it projects the cosmos… like a map of some kind.”

Hec-Tor’s eyes lit up, but Prime was already moving on. The next gift was a small figurine, similar to the ones tat sat on a shelf in his room, beside his vanity. The figurine was larger than some of his others, although it didn’t seem it, sitting in his brother’s hand. Blue veins ran across a surface of blackened stone, and Hec-Tor assumed it would glow in the dark. It took a moment for Hec-Tor to recognize that the figurine had been carved in the shape of a pinnilux—in the past, they had been used as draught animals, pulling boats along the underground rivers that ran between oases. He remembered having a stuffed one when he was very young, although he couldn’t remember what had happened to it.

Finally, Caduceus carefully picked up the jewelry and held it out for Hec-Tor to see. There was a set of new ornamentation—clasps that would slip over the shell of his ears, with hair-thin chains of white gold, studded with jewels—as well as a pendant in the shape of a crescent moon, centered around a glowing crystal that likely had come from deep beneath the surface of Vampyrus.

“The style wore around the Oasis of Auroras has changed since I was last there,” Prime explained, his natural eyes darting back to Hec-Tor, and he peered at Hec-Tor, as if gauging his reaction. “I had them rush commissioned especially for you. There is not another set like them anywhere in the cosmos, save for a pair I had made for myself…”

“They’re beautiful, Anillis,” Hec-Tor said. Though his words were sincere, however, his gaze had already moved on. He had more than enough jewelry, and any novelty receiving new necklaces or ear ornamentation had worn off long ago. “… what about that?” he asked, indicating to the book the jewelry had been sitting upon with a twitch of his ears.

“Oh, yes,” Prime said, sounding far less interested in that than he had in the jewelry. “That is from the High Aurora… they insisted you have it.”

Eagerly, Hec-Tor plucked the book from the tray. It was heavy in his hand, bound in quality leather as dark as the night. Silver filigree had been painted across the cover—a luminous dragon, rising through the sky atop what looked like sun’s rays. When he flipped the book open, Hec-Tor found the cover pages had been written in sweeping calligraphy, although he recognized neither the title nor the author. And there, tucked in between the first few pages, was a letter that had been stamped with Alekos’s personal seal. An eight-pointed star, the symbol of the Eternal Light, only used by the High Aurora.

Hec-Tor’s throat went dry when he noticed the seal hadn’t been broken—nobody had read what Alekos had to say yet—and he quickly popped the seal before the letter could be taken from him. It was a brief letter, but Alekos’s sweeping handwriting was comforting to see all the same.

_ So that you might have a new adventure, little light. — Alekos _

A giddy feeling settled in Hec-Tor’s chest—he hadn’t spoken to them in months but they had remembered him mentioning he had already read nearly all of his books multiple times over. A genuine smile appeared on his features as he hugged the book close.

“When do you next speak to them?” Hec-Tor asked as his gaze found Prime’s. When Caduceus moved to take the book from him, to place it back on the tray, Hec-Tor held it that much tighter, refusing to part with it. “I need to thank them.”

Prime sighed heavily, his ears twitching in distaste. “Whenever they decide to nag me next, I suppose.”

Hec-Tor’s gaze moved over the gifts again—from the small figurine to the large ship that sat on the far side of the docking bay. “You didn’t need to bring back so much, Anillis.”

“Nonsense!” Prime said insistently. “You are an Imperial Prince, it is only right that you have belongings to match.”

“But I only asked for those writings from the Capital Archives,” Hec-Tor reminded him, before he peered around his brother at the shuttle again. “You brought those too, right?”

“Of course I did,” Prime said. “But it will take time for the Archivists to work their way through them. Once they have everything cataloged properly, they will be delivered to the Creche and you can read to your heart’s content.”

“… and the sword?” Hec-Tor pressed. “My Minder said that it wasn’t intact.”

Prime’s expression hardened. “It was found damaged, alongside an Etherian who has been brought back here for questioning. She claims to be a guard of Queen Glimmer.”

Glimmer hadn’t mentioned a guard to him—although she likely wouldn’t have, if she had been given the choice—but Hec-Tor also found it curious that Glimmer had brought her father with her, rather than this guard. Wouldn’t it have made more sense for her father to stay behind, as he had experience ruling? Hec-Tor very nearly asked about this new Etherian, before deciding he didn’t want to know… especially not if she was as touchy as Glimmer had been.

“I am sure Princess Entrapta can find a way to fix the sword,” Hec-Tor said instead. Surely it couldn’t have been so badly damaged that would be impossible… Hec-Tor didn’t know what they’d do otherwise. Entrapta had said multiple times that she suspected the weapon couldn’t be used without the sword…

“Nevertheless, it will be a few hours yet before the shuttle is unpacked and I have a meeting in the meantime,” Prime said, before tilting his head. “I trust you have a way of entertaining yourself in the meantime?”

Hec-Tor hesitated—he had been hoping to meet with Entrapta soon after his brother returned, but… Prime was right. The shuttle needed to be unpacked, and if he had a meeting, then Hec-Tor couldn’t ask that of him. Besides, he had a new book, courtesy of Alekos, and he could begin reading that in the meantime. So, rather than complain, he dipped his head without a word.

“Off you go then,” Prime said, offering another easy smile. “I will see you later, in your lab.”

As Hec-Tor was led away, clutching Caduceus’s elbow, he cast one last glance over his shoulder. However, his brother was always involved in managing the Attendants, as they flitted in and out of the shuttle. Several of the crates needed two Attendants to carry, but they moved about without complain, their posture as stiff as it always was. As Hec-Tor turned to face forward again, there was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision, and he caught the whisper of a high-pitched voice.

He might have mistaken the voice for that of a pup—it was unusual for Pyrians to have such high voices unless they were relatively young—but when he turned his head in the direction of the voice, he was surprised to find an Etherian had been led from the First One’s ship on the far side of the docking bay. She didn’t look much taller than Glimmer, standing about even with the middle of an Attendant’s chest. Hec-Tor wasn’t surprised by that, all of the Etherians were unusually short. Her hair, though, caught his attention. It was bright gold, tied back at the crown of her head… what an unusual color.

“Is that Queen Glimmer’s guard?” he whispered to Caduceus, indicating to the Etherian with his ears.

Caduceus followed the motion of his ears. “I believe so,” was all he said as they slipped out of the docking bay. The doors slid behind them with a sharp hiss, cutting off Hec-Tor’s view.

The Guest Wing was quiet as they made their way through the halls, but Hec-Tor was vigilant, his ears never still. Any scents he could pick up were stale—whether they were the tang of alkaline metals that indicated an Etherian had recently passed through or the stench of acrid darkness that hailed the arrival of someone far more sinister. He had almost forgotten that he would have to pass through the Guest Wing again to get to the elevators.

He edged closed to Caduceus’s side and immediately felt much better. “Will she be staying with the rest of them?”

Caduceus didn’t look at him. “Who?”

“… the guard?” Hec-Tor elaborated. “Will she be staying with the rest of the Etherians?”

“Presumably,” Caduceus said, his ears shifting beneath the fabric of his hood—although it was next to impossible to tell what he was trying to indicate with them. “Once Horde Prime has been assured she is not a threat.”

Hec-Tor frowned. “But why would she—”

As they rounded the next corner, Hec-Tor nearly ran directly into Scorpia. As he scrambled backwards to keep from knocking into, he tread on the skirts of his dress. The only reason he didn’t trip and fall was because he had been holding onto Caduceus’s elbow. Scorpia yelped in surprise, taking a hasty step back and bumping into one of the Attendants who had been flanking her on either side. He barely even flinched, but his eyes narrowed at her in the shadows of his hood.

“Prince—Prince Hec-Tor!” she said before quickly bowing at the waist. 

Any ease there had been between them seemed to have gone after what had happened in the gardens, and an uncomfortable feeling wormed its way into the pit of Hec-Tor’s stomach, even though he now knew it had been a misunderstanding. He managed a tight smile, hoping it might put her more at ease. “Please, Scorpia…” he said carefully. “You are free to call me by my name, without the title.”

Scorpia didn’t look sure. “Why—Why are you in the Guest Wing? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?”

Hec-Tor shook his head. “Not unless it slipped my mind,” he said, before his ears gave a flick of consideration. “Which has been known to happen—drives my brother mad.”

That, it seemed, had been the right thing to say. Scorpia managed to crack a smile. “I—I actually wanted to thank you… for—for standing up for me,” she said, averting her gaze to the floor. “Shadow Weaver said I was just being clumsy, but it’s kind of difficult ‘cause… well, y’know…”

She lightly tapped her pedipalps together for emphasis.

“We are more alike in that regard than you might think,” Hec-Tor said before he thought better of it.

“… but you don’t have claws,” Scorpia said, her brow pinching in confusion.

“I don’t,” Hec-Tor said, but he didn’t elaborate. “Scorpia, you have been very kind to me, in spite of my lack of experience with outsiders. I never assumed you were trying to harm me, and I would be honored to meet with you again.”

This time, Scorpia’s smile was bright. “Oh, that’d be great! Can Entrapta join us?”

Hec-Tor chuckled softly. “I can’t promise we have any tiny cups that would fit her preference, but I would like that very much.”

—

By the time afternoon rolled around, Hec-Tor was utterly listless, and he eagerly followed Caduceus through the halls of the Imperial Wing when it was finally time to meet with Entrapta. Though their letters had gotten progressively longer in recent days, he still found it difficult to answer all of her questions in written form, and he was eager to be able to speak to her again. They would be meeting in his sanctum, as it was one of the only places they’d be able to carry out their work, seeing as Prime didn’t want them wandering around the labs.

He had been expecting to arrive before her, but much to his surprise, Entrapta was already within the sanctum by the time he and Caduceus stepped through the doors. She looked exactly as she had the last time he had seen her, although she had pulled the straps over her overalls up over her shoulders. Four Attendants lingered around her, and Hec-Tor’s ears gave an uneasy twitch—that was double the number that any of the Etherians had guarding them. Hec-Tor was not accustomed to having such a large audience while he was working…

… but Entrapta didn’t even seem to notice that four different sets of eyes were locked on her.

Her eyes lit up when she caught sight of him lingering in the doorway beside Caduceus. “Hec-Tor, hey!” she said, effortlessly weaving across the sanctum, using the overhead struts as holds for her hair to latch onto.

“Had I known that you would be here so early, I would have been here to greet you,” Hec-Tor said sincerely. It seemed disrespectful to not have been there, since she was considered an honored guest, alongside the other Etherians..

“Oh, it’s fine!” Entrapta said, waving a flock of hair in a dismissive manner. She paused just in front of him and perched herself atop a shelf of her hair so that they were eye level with one another. A bright grin appeared on her features. “I’m soooo excited to begin research on the sword—”

And then she paused and glanced around—first at him and then at where Caduceus was standing—and upon not seeing the sword, her expression morphed to one of confusion. “Where is it?”

Hec-Tor tucked his hands at the small of his back. “My brother is bringing it. It should be here soon…”

Prime had said he would be delivering it personally in the short message he had sent ahead—and Hec-Tor was certain that his brother would wish to oversee the initial meeting. Hec-Tor didn’t find that particularly necessary, as his brother wasn’t technologically inclined and would only get in their way.

“Oh,” was all Entrapta said in response, and then she fell silent. A ripple ran through her hair from her scalp down to the very tips.

“… I could give you a tour?” Hec-Tor suggested, tilting his ears. “I might not have any ‘six-sided hex drivers’, but I do have other things. If we are going to work together, you should know where everything is.”

“Hec-Tor,” Caduceus whispered under his breath, shooting Hec-Tor a stern look.

His ears flicked in irritation. “There is no harm in showing her,” he retorted.

Caduceus opened his mouth, and then closed it again. A soft sigh left his nasal ridge. From how his eyes narrowed in the shadow of his hood, it was clear he didn’t approve, but he straightened his posture again and said nothing else. 

Entrapta let out a sound that Hec-Tor could have easily taken for a chirp of excitement—a decidedly odd noise for her to make, considering she was not of Pyrian descent—and wrapped her hair around his arm. He was dragged from Caduceus’s side, over to the other side of the sanctum where all of his tools were organized. She watched him with wide, curious eyes as he stepped forward and began the tour.

“I have one slot for drivers, one for wrenches—” Hec-Tor lifted the top off of one of the boxes and peered inside. “—uh, I believe that is spare wiring.”

Entrapta hovered in the air behind him, peering over his shoulder with barely concealed interest. As he continued pointing to various boxes and racks, she let out soft little hums and ripples flowed through her hair. Her attention was completely focused on him, though.

_ Bwip _ !

His ears twitched as he slid aside another box, and he was surprised to find Trinket had shoved herself into the back corner of the shelf. Years ago, he had transferred her AI back into the original body had designed for her when he was very little. Although he could have easily transferred her into one of the shock troopers, he had always held a fondness for the original, spherical design that he had always intended for them.

“Ohhh! What is that?” Entrapta asked, and Hec-Tor felt her presence pressing up against his back. “Can I see it?!”

Hec-Tor shushed her—thankfully, Trinket didn’t immediately scurry off. There were plenty of ways for her to escape if she wanted to. “She doesn’t like loud noises. That’s why she doesn’t like Ca—my Minder. He has a tendency to scream when he sees him,” he explained, before holding out his hand, palm facing up. “If you hold out your hand like this, she might crawl into it.”

When he was younger, Trinket had liked riding around in his hands. She had originally fit neatly in the palms of both hands, but these days, Hec-Tor only needed one hand to hold her.

Entrapta let out that soft little chirp-like sound again, eagerly holding out her hand for the bot. At first, Trinket seemed hesitant—but then, she had always been rather shy. She had been born in the Creche, and the only people she had ever come into close contact with in recent years were Hec-Tor and Caduceus. Initially, Trinket shied away from Entrapta, half-curling up in on herself as she watched Entrapta with a bright red ocular processor. A soft whirring sound left her before she tentatively scurried forward, nudging one of her tiny legs against Entrapta’s finger, as if she was attempting to test the situation. Entrapta held still all the while, smiling brightly at the bot. Finally, Trinket carefully climbed into Entrapta’s palm and settled there.

“… she doesn’t usually take to people that quickly,” Hec-Tor said, gazing at Entrapta in surprise.

Entrapta cooed, holding Trinket closer to her face. “She’s soooo cute… so tiny,” she said in a soft voice.

“She’s the base for the shock troopers my brother uses in the field…” Hec-Tor explained—even though she was old and often faulty, he had never had it in him to get rid of her. “I designed them.”

“She doesn’t look like any of the troopers I saw,” Entrapta said, peering at him curiously. “They seemed more… advanced than she is, although I did notice a couple of faults that could be worked out. They seem rather unbalanced.”

Hec-Tor let out a sigh of relief, his ears flicking in irritation. “Thank you! I have only told Anillis multiple times—”

Entrapta pet the top of Trinket’s outer casing with a flock of her hair, and the little bot let out a whir that was strangely similar to a purr. “Well, I like her… she’s super cute, not to mention affectionate!”

“I—I have her old schematics lying around here somewhere—” Hec-Tor said, his ears twitching nervously. “—if—if you’re interested, that is. The internal circuitry is actually quite advanced, even if Trinket might not look it... considering I made her when I was... very young—”

Hec-Tor didn’t get a chance to finish his thought, as the door to the sanctum opened, and Prime strode in, followed by an Attendant who was carrying a box that could have held a sword. He paused in the doorway, and though there was an easy smile on his features, it did not meet his eyes. As he peered at Entrapta and Hec-Tor, his ears shifted back against the sides of his head.

“Princess Entrapta,” he said with a forced pleasantness. “You are early.”

If Entrapta noticed his tone, or how his ears betrayed his displeasure at seeing her in the sanctum, she said nothing. Rather, a bright smile reappeared on her features as she caught sight of the box that held the sword. She moved quickly, using the overhead struts in the sanctum’s ceiling to drive herself forward. Prime’s demeanor fractured when she paused just in front of him, practically nose to nasal ridge. His lip curled, revealing a flash of his canines, but he just as quickly caught himself.

“Ooooh, thank you!” she said, swinging around Prime and hovering just in front of the Attendant who was holding the sword. “I’ve wanted to study this thing since Adora found it in the Whispering Woods, but nobody ever let me get close enough to touch it!”

When she reached out for the box with her hair, as though she intended to snatch it from the Attendant’s grasp, he abruptly moved away from her, his lips curling to mirror Prime’s expression. Entrapta paused and settled again, looking confused as the Attendant strode over to the workbench without casting her a second glance. There, he began unpacking the sword, laying out the shards.

Prime’s ears began twitching in thinly veiled irritation. “Unfortunately, Princess Entrapta, the sword was found damaged within—”

“In the Crystal Castle?” Entrapta guessed, finishing his sentence for him. Her demeanor immediately shifted back to how it had been. “Oh, how exciting! I know Adora once mentioned that’s where Light Hope lived. Of course, I never got an opportunity to speak with her—”

To Hec-Tor’s surprise, it was Caduceus who spoke up. “… Light Hope?”

“I think Adora said something about her being a First One’s AI,” Entrapta said, tapping her chin with a flock of her hair. “Something about how she was important to the Heart of Etheria.”

Before any of them could get another word in, Entrapta was on the move again, crossing the sanctum and settling beside the workbench. Her eyes seemed to come alight at the sight of the sword, even if it was in a dozen pieces. Hec-Tor followed her, ignoring his brother’s warning look, and lingered at her side. There, he peered over her shoulder as she plucked up piece after piece of the sword, turning it over in a flock of her hair.

He wanted to ask her more questions—what the Crystal Castle was like, if she and Light Hope had ever spoken directly? Was it possible that they could download the AI and transfer her to the  _ Velvet Glove _ in some fashion, so they could ask her questions? He didn’t get a chance to voice any of them, as Prime adruptly stepped in between him and Entrapta, and nudged Hec-Tor back a step. His narrowed gaze was fixed on Entrapta, and he didn’t seem intent on moving.

“As riveting as I am sure this Light Hope is, my main concern is whether or not the sword can be mended,” Prime said, his tone clipped. 

“Potentially!” Entrapta said, as though she hadn’t noticed Prime’s mood at all.

Prime’s ears gave an irritated flick. “How long do you anticipate it taking?”

“Anillis, it’s in pieces,” Hec-Tor pointed out, but his brother didn’t even look at him.

“It is!” Entrapta agreed. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! I’ve only rebuilt First One’s tech once before and—”

“Perhaps I have not made my meaning plain,” Prime hissed as he contemplated one of his talon guards. “It is not my concern how you developed your knowledge base. I do not care. Do not waste my time or that of my brother’s with your—”

Entrapta frowned at him, before rising up on her hair so that she was eye level with him. “You're very impatient, aren't you?”

Hec-Tor had to muffle a snort behind a cough when he noticed the tips of Prime’s ears flush a light shade of blue.

“On the contrary, Princess Entrapta,” Prime said, recovering quickly. His voice returned to the cool, saccharine purr it always took on when he was speaking with someone he was beginning to tire of. “I am very patient when the cause suits me. What I do not appreciate is having my time wasted on frivolous matters. Your fellow Etherians have warned me that you can be easily distracted and downright chaotic if left to your own devices… you are only being afforded this position because I trust my brother will keep you on track.”

This time, it was Prime who got into her personal space, as he leaned towards her and peered at her. Entrapta, however, didn’t seem anywhere near as put off by this as people usually did. She merely blinked at him.

“Are we clear?” Prime finally asked.

“She won’t waste your time,” Hec-Tor stated firmly, drawing his brother’s attention away from Entrapta. He would make sure of it, and he would keep her on track, if only so his brother would stop hovering and getting in their way. However, when he stepped out of Prime’s shadow so that they could begin their work, his brother took a half-step, cutting him off again.

“Of course I won’t,” Entrapta said, waving a flock of her hair dismissively. “And there is no reason to get so—so huffy! Science is a process. It will take time for me to figure out how the pieces fit together, much less if the sword can be fixed at all—”

“Spare me the lecture,” Prime said dryly. “I have very little interest in technobabble. But that is why Hec-Tor is here to oversee your work. He should have little trouble understanding you.”

Hec-Tor edged forward again, peering around his brother at the sword. Entrapta had laid it out along the top of his workbench in such a way that the shards looked like pieces of a puzzle. Although it was smaller than a traditional Pyrian blade—likely because the First Ones had been shorter than the average Pyrian—that didn’t mean it looked any less formidable. Even if he didn't actually know how to wield a sword, he had watched the Attendants spar with live weapons before. He wondered how the blade was balanced, if the gemstone embedded at the hilt was symbolic or had some other purpose.

“Hec-Tor, a word,” Prime said, bending down and lowering his voice so that Entrapta wouldn’t have been able to hear him. Without waiting for an answer, he led Hec-Tor away, his hand resting lightly between Hec-Tor’s shoulder blades. He even threw a glare over his shoulder for good measure, despite Entrapta being so thoroughly enraptured by poking at the shards of the sword she wouldn’t have noticed.

“You have a meeting, I take it?” Hec-Tor asked—although he was fine with that, for once. Having his brother hovering for the rest of the afternoon would have grown tedious, especially if Prime insisted on putting himself between Hec-Tor and Entrapta constantly like some guard dog that was ready to snap at the slightest provocation.

“I do, yes,” Prime said, brushing the skirts of his dress, even though there was not a speck of dirt tarnishing them for what Hec-Tor could see.

“I will ensure Entrapta stays on track,” Hec-Tor said quickly. “Focus on your meeting, I can handle this.”

“That is actually what I wished to speak to you about, little one,” Prime said simply. “It is imperative that you keep one Minder of space between you.”

“… one Minder of space?” Hec-Tor repeated, his ears flicking in confusion. How was he supposed to work if he had to constantly ensure that he and Entrapta were far enough apart for his brother’s liking? What if she needed a tool or an explanation of something because the technology was so foreign to her? What if he needed help understanding the same?

“But… Anillis, that will make working with her far more difficult than it needs to be!” Hec-Tor retorted.

“And I do not believe for a moment she is agreeing to help us without having an ulterior motive,” Prime said as he reached out to lightly thread his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest. “I cannot bear the thought of harm coming to you because you were standing within striking range, Hec-Tor.”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to point out that there were five Attendants in the sanctum, so there was actually very little chance of her being able to bring him to harm... but Prime's gaze hardened and he immediately shut his mouth again.

“… one Minder of space,” he finally agreed, and he barely managed to keep his ears from betraying his annoyance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday to where one fell as a verse!! i posted the first chapter of where one fell on ao3 exactly a year ago, as a birthday present to myself, and look how far we've come 🤣🤣


	8. Hesitancies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writers be like [accidentally takes a month long hiatus] [reads a good eight books during that]
> 
> anyway, i'm back with a new chapter 😉

Hec-Tor lingering at the very edge of the garden’s pavilion, leaning against one of the carved beams that held up the roof. Looking out over the gardens, he watched as water cascaded through the leaves of the trees, down onto the mulch beds and grass. Ordinarily, the sound of the rain would have been calming, but now his mind wouldn’t settle.

Although his brother hadn’t said why they were having this meeting, Hec-Tor could only assume it was to discuss if there had been any progress with the sword. He didn’t yet know how he was going to tell his brother that there had been very little headway over the few days they had been working with it—although not for lack of trying. Entrapta, brilliant though she was, seemed to be struggling. Nothing she had tried so far had yielded the results they were looking for, and Hec-Tor didn’t know enough about First One’s tech to be of much help yet. He still hadn’t received the files he had requested from the Capital Archives.

While Entrapta had made it very clear that fixing the sword might not even be possible to begin with, Hec-Tor knew that there was a very limited time frame before Prime began to grow impatient with her. Well, even more impatient than he already was… and Hec-Tor didn’t know if he could placate his brother if they had nothing to show for their work.

A sharp tone of voice cut through the calm, and one of Hec-Tor’s ears swiveled to the listen behind him. Over the pattering of rain, he could pick up the hushed whispers of his brother speaking to an Attendant—or perhaps an Archivist? Prime was giving him very clear instructions, but Hec-Tor hadn’t caught much of the conversation and didn’t even know what the topic was. All he knew was that since he had arrived, shortly before the rain had started, Prime had been deep into planning something. Whatever it was, it must have been important.

Ignoring the Attendant and his brother, Hec-Tor reached a hand out, palm facing up, and allowed the rain to wash over him. The water was cool against his skin, and while he longed to step fully out from beneath the shelter of the pavilion, he knew his brother would throw a fit and insist he’d catch a chill. So, he stayed put, taking a deep breath in through his nasal ridge and closing his eyes, listening to the rain as it fell to the ground.

Though the rain had washed away most scents—as it tended to do—Hec-Tor could still pick up the lingering taste of alkaline metals on the roof of his mouth. There was a flash of recognition in the back of his mind. Scorpia’s fear as she realized she had done something that could be misconstrued. The Attendants lack of understanding that Hec-Tor had been scared of them and what they were capable of doing to someone who hadn’t done anything to deserve such ire. Hec-Tor being unable to help because the Attendants wouldn’t listen to him, so Caduceus had to step in.

A shudder passed through Hec-Tor as he struggled to will the memories away. That had been less than two weeks ago, but it was still fresh in the back of his mind.

There was a sudden presence at his side, punctuated by the sound of fabric dragging across the tiled floor and the heavy aroma of herbals against the roof of his mouth. When Hec-Tor opened his eyes, he found Caduceus lingering half a step away, holding a cup of tea. His bright green eyes flashed in the shadow of his hood.

“Had I known it would be chilly, I would have chosen your wardrobe differently,” Caduceus said simply before he held the tea out for Hec-Tor.

Hec-Tor didn’t reach to take it, and instead glanced down at his dress—nice as any of his others, covering every inch of skin save for his hands and throat, but the fabric was rather thin. More for show than for protection against the elements. He hadn’t even noticed the chill in the air.

“… you were shivering,” Caduceus said as he pressed the tea into Hec-Tor’s hands.

Although he hadn’t, Hec-Tor also didn’t correct Caduceus… he didn’t want to talk about what had happened here when his brother was only a couple of feet away. He was certain that Prime thought the matter was already resolved… but while it might have all been a misunderstanding, Hec-Tor still struggled to come to terms with it. The pavilion no longer offered peace of mind for him.

“Is Anillis almost through?” Hec-Tor asked, casting a glance over his shoulder to where his brother still sat. Prime didn’t even seem to notice. “Do you know why he called me here if he was so busy?”

Caduceus frowned as though he was confused by the question. “… he—he wanted to spend time with you? Why else would he ask you to join him in the pavilion?”

“… oh.”

And Hec-Tor suddenly felt very foolish for assuming his brother had asked him here for a report on the sword. He quickly raised the cup to his lips, gulping down a mouthful of tea so that he didn’t have to say anything else.

Caduceus didn’t stop him, but did sigh through his nasal ridge. “… Hec-Tor, you’re going to burn your throat.”

Although his throat did burn, Hec-Tor didn’t let his discomfort show. When Hec-Tor settled for taking smaller sips of the tea, Caduceus’s gaze slid away from him.

There were faint footsteps behind them, and an Attendant—the one that had been meeting with Prime, Hec-Tor realized, upon noticing his brother’s voice had finally petered out—glided past. He didn’t seem to notice the rain as he stepped out onto the grass, even as it threatened to soak through his robes, and disappeared, following one of the trails that would take him back to the garden’s entrance. 

“Well, now that that meeting is over and done with,” Prime said from the opposite side of the pavilion. He sounded exhausted, although he was doing a remarkable job of not looking it. When Hec-Tor glanced over his shoulder, he found that his brother was lounging in his seat as he often did, one leg crossed over the other at the knee. While the two eyes above and below his right remained locked upon his datapad, his natural eyes were trained upon Hec-Tor.

“Hec-Tor, you’ll catch your death of a cold standing there,” he chided lightly, before motioning Hec-Tor over with a flick of his ears. “Come here.”

A retort lingered on the tip of Hec-Tor’s tongue—about how he was fine and Prime didn’t need to fret so much—but he managed to bite it back before his temper got the better of him. With one last, lingering look over the gardens, Hec-Tor turned away and crossed the pavilion to where his brother was sitting. There, he carefully settled down beside Prime, still clutching his tea in hand.

Without missing a beat, Prime snapped his fingers—but the only person who would qualify as an Attendant still left in the vicinity was Caduceus. He immediately went still, his gaze trained on Prime as he awaited his order.

“You, get Prince Hec-Tor something to eat. He must keep his blood sugar up,” Prime ordered, without so much as looking at Caduceus.

Hesitance was clear on Caduceus’s features—he didn’t want to leave Hec-Tor—but it was brief. He acquiesced almost immediately, bowing at the waist, his gaze downcast. “Does Prince Hec-Tor have any requests?”

“I—” Hec-Tor really wasn’t hungry, but he knew better than to argue. “Fruit… fruit would be fine. Thank you.”

Caduceus dipped his head once before he disappeared from the pavilion without so much as a backwards glance in their direction. Clutching his tea more tightly in his hands, Hec-Tor could only watch as Caduceus followed the path of the Attendant who had disappeared mere moments before, stepping out into the rain. Unlike the Attendant, however, it was clear he did not appreciate his uniform being soaked.

Hec-Tor couldn’t help but linger on how his brother would have never sent  _ him _ out into the rain like that.

“… so, what was your meeting about?” Hec-Tor asked, carefully swirling his tea around in its cup.

“Oh, that… that  _ star thing _ that happened on Actius Luna,” Prime said with a frustrated and dismissive flick of his ears—he clearly didn’t remember the term that Hec-Tor had used to describe it, although he was certain it wasn’t from lack of trying. Prime had never been inclined to most sciences outside of botany.

“The coronal mass ejection?” Hec-Tor prompted gently, before he took another long sip of his tea.

“Yes, that,” Prime said. “Thankfully, the local governor had the foresight to begin mobilizing workers immediately. They had already begun repairs by the time I had reached out to them. Production of your medication shouldn’t be too badly hampered. Isn’t that wonderful?”

“I… suppose,” was all Hec-Tor managed to say.

He had never been overly concerned with the situation on Actius Luna—at least, now with how it affected him personally. He had complete faith that his brother would sort out his medication before it became an issue. However, he was still concerned for the people who lived there, and how they had been affected by their entire energy grid being destroyed by the coronal mass ejection. Had his brother ensured their livelihoods as well?

One of his ears twitched as the hydroponics system finally shut off and the rain let up. His gaze moved over the plants as the final droplets fell to the ground. The scents around them were still muddied, largely beyond recognition, but that Etherian scent still cut through everything else. Alkaline, not fully organic in a way that should have been disconcerting, but he had come to associate the scent with his new friends. There was a comfort there.

“Anillis, you brought new plants back from Etheria?” Hec-Tor asked, hoping it was an innocent enough question. His brother did love to talk about his plants.

“I have obtained several specimens from Etheria to add to my collection, yes,” Prime said, his ears perking and his eyes alight. “Finicky things, unlike any other plant I’ve worked with before.” He looked over the back of the lounge they were sitting on, his eyes roving over one of the mulch beds—if that was where the Etherian plants were, however, Hec-Tor couldn’t tell. All the plants in the gardens looked very similar to him.

“Would you like to see them?” Prime asked, before indicating to the mulch bed with his ears. “I planted them just over here.”

Hec-Tor nodded, quickly setting aside his tea as Prime stood from his seat. When Prime offered Hec-Tor his arm, Hec-Tor carefully tucked his hands into the crook of his brother’s elbow, allowing Prime to lead him from the pavilion. The grass was slippery underfoot, still wet from the dew lingering there following the rain, but Prime kept his steps measured so as not to drag Hec-Tor off of his feet.

“Have they been troubling you, then?” Hec-Tor asked as they approached the mulch bed. “The Etherian plants, I mean.”

Prime’s ears gave a dismissive flick as he lingered on the very edge of the mulch bed—entering it now would surely have muddied their skirts, so Prime merely motioned to a few shrubs and flowers that Hec-Tor couldn’t be sure hadn’t always been planted in the gardens. However, the scent of alkaline metals was thickest here, and there was a certain… energy lingering in the air. He wondered if holding a piece of Horde Tech next to the plants would cause a similar reaction to what had happened with the shard of First One’s tech he still had sitting on his nightstand.

“Shadow Weaver has offered advice on their needs,” Prime was saying. “She keeps quite an extensive garden of her own back in her territories on Etheria. I regret to say I didn’t have an opportunity to visit when I first made contact… but her advice has been most helpful in keeping these damn things alive.”

“… and you are certain that is… wise?” Hec-Tor questioned before he could stop himself. The tips of his ears heated as he realized his mistake, remembering how dismissive Prime had been whenever Hec-Tor expressed concern over the witch. “I—I’m just concerned she might have—” Oh, how had Prime described his concerns with Entrapta. “—have  _ ulterior motives _ for helping you…”

Prime let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I am certain she does.”

Hec-Tor frowned, not understanding how he could be so calm about that. He knew that since his brother had returned, he had met with Shadow Weaver several times, but Prime had never divulged what exactly they discussed to him. “If you know she is untrustworthy, then why—”

“Hec-Tor, I am the Horde Prime,” his brother said, his ears twitching in a way that was difficult to decipher. It could have been amusement or annoyance, he wasn’t sure which. “Nothing on this ship escapes my notice… there is nothing you need to worry yourself about.”

“But—”

“Hec-Tor, what did I just say…?” Prime said, frowning at him. This time, his ears twitched in exasperation. “I have everything under control, little one.”

A retort lingered on the tip of his tongue, but Hec-Tor bit it back as his grip on his brother’s elbow tightened. “I am merely  _ concerned _ that you are letting a shade wander around our home. Does Alekos know?”

Prime’s eyes narrowed, but he ignored the question—clearly he didn’t wish to speak of the High Aurora at the moment. “Your concern is misplaced… you really must stop allowing that little queen to sew doubts into your head,” he said, flicking his ears dismissively. His annoyance was gone in a moment, though, replaced by a softness in his eyes. He reached out and lightly threaded his talons through the snow white hair of Hec-Tor’s crest. “Now, I said there is no reason to worry yourself over any of this, little one, and I meant that… I have the situation well in hand.”

But even as he said it, Hec-Tor couldn’t help but notice how tired his brother looked—like he hadn’t been sleeping well, like he was stretching himself too thin. “… is there nothing I can do to help?”

“You can help by ensuring Princess Entrapta stays on task,” Prime stated firmly.

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to argue—surely there was more he could do when he wasn’t helping Entrapta—but just as quickly caught his tongue. “… of course, Anillis.”

—

“Can you pass me the torsion wrench?”

Entrapta’s voice was muffled by the welding mask she had flipped down over her face, but Hec-Tor still understood what she had said perfectly. His gaze darted around the workbench before he spotted the wrench she had requested on the far side of the table. Hec-Tor didn’t doubt that she could have reached it on her own—her hair was more than long enough—but he didn’t say so. Without a word, he plucked the wrench up from where it sat, and then passed it on to the Attendant who stood between them, enforcing his brother’s asinine ‘one minder of space’ rule.

The Attendant didn’t even glance at the wrench—or Hec-Tor for that matter—before holding the wrench out for Entrapta. His gaze was locked on her, scrutinizing her every move, as though he anticipated her dropping the charade at any moment and attacking them. Even though Entrapta wasn’t even looking at them. All of her attention was trained on the shard of sword she clutched in her gloved hands, and it was a tendril of hair that plucked the wrench from the Attendant’s grasp.

Hec-Tor was left to peer around the Attendant to watch what she was doing, shuffling closer inch-by-inch until the Attendant held out an arm to keep him from getting too close to her. Hec-Tor turned his gaze onto the Attendant to glare at him, but the Attendant’s gaze was largely impassive. There was only the slightest pinch in his brow that indicated all Hec-Tor needed to know.

He was to stay where he was, and one Minder of space would be enforced, as Horde Prime had ordered. If one Attendant needed a break, there were three others waiting in line to take his place. Hec-Tor would always be ‘safe’.

“I think Hec-Tor would like to see what I’m doing,” Entrapta spoke up suddenly, lifting the welding mask out of her face with a singular flock of hair. She peered up at the Attendant, her irritation plain. “Your help really isn’t needed, you know. I think Hec-Tor and I can—”

“You will call him ‘Prince Hec-Tor’,” the Attendant retorted stiffly. “And the Attendants here to ensure distance is maintained. We could never allow harm to come to our Prince.”

At the statement, Hec-Tor’s throat went dry—what if Entrapta made a sudden movement the Attendants misconstrued as dangerous? He didn’t know if he’d be able to talk them down. Reminding them that Entrapta had yet to do anything that suggested she had the intention to harm him lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t find his voice.

Entrapta merely blinked, as though she was surprised by the statement. “… why would I harm Hec-Tor?”

However, before the Attendant could respond—before the fight could escalate further—Caduceus strode over. He cut in between Entrapta and the Attendant, holding the Attendant’s gaze. “Go,” he said, and in spite of the calmness in his tone, it was clearly meant to be an order. “Prince Hec-Tor will be safe with me.”

Hec-Tor worried, for a moment, that the Attendant would argue, but he merely cast one final glare in Entrapta’s direction and stepped aside, allowing Caduceus to fill the space between the two of them. Hec-Tor let out a soft breath and whispered, “Thank you.”

Caduceus merely dipped his head, the tiniest of smiles gracing his lips.

Entrapta glanced tentatively at Caduceus, a couple flocks of her hair twitching in such a way it seemed to be a nervous tic. “… you’re not going to accuse me of things too, are you?”

“No,” Caduceus said simply, without glancing down at her. His ears shifted beneath the fabric of his hood, although Hec-Tor couldn’t tell if he was merely listening to her or if he was expressing something. “Unlike  _ certain _ members of your entourage, I have been given no reason to assume  _ you _ mean Hec-Tor harm.”

Hec-Tor breathed a soft sigh of relief, grateful there was at least one other person on this ship who hadn’t immediately assumed the worst of Entrapta. When he tried to inch his way closer to her, Caduceus even allowed him to, although he still blocked Hec-Tor from getting too close. Even in spite of that, Hec-Tor now had a much better view of what Entrapta had been doing.

The hilt of the sword had remained largely intact in spite of whatever trauma had been inflicted upon the blade. Hec-Tor’s gaze was immediately drawn to the shimmering gemstone that had been inlaid at the hilt’s base. In the low light of the sanctum, the gemstone appeared opalescent, fractured shards of every color on the spectrum catching across its smooth surface. Although it was oblong, it was little bigger than one of the coins that were used back on Vampyrus and would have fit into his hand easily. It looked like it would have been significantly larger in Entrapta’s.

“Entrapta,” Hec-Tor finally said—and he immediately struggled to find his voice again when she looked at him, eyes alight and an easy smile gracing her features. “I… I—the gemstone, just there—” He indicated to it with a flick of his ears, finding that easier than speaking.

“Oh, it isn’t a gemstone, even if it looks like it!” Entrapta said and let out a soft melodic hum in the back of her throat. “It’s a runestone!”

Hec-Tor’s ears flicked curiously as he glanced at the hilt again. She hadn’t mentioned there was a sixth runestone in her letters—although he was certain she hadn’t neglected to mention it on purpose. He found it difficult to believe that she would have withheld this on purpose when she had so freely given every other scrap of information that had been in her letters.

“… I thought the runestone would be…” Hec-Tor trailed off, his ears tilting as he considered his words. “More… grandiose.”

“Oh, they are!” Entrapta said with a bright grin. “I’ve only seen the Black Garnet up close but it’s  _ biiiiiig _ ! Probably thrice your size!”

The retort that he wasn’t even that large lingered on the tip of Hec-Tor’s tongue, but he bit it back. While he wasn’t particularly large for a Pyrian, to the Etherians he must have been rather tall. A runestone being ‘thrice his size’ definitely put things into perspective.

“The runestones seem to be fundamental to the balance of Etheria, although I can’t say for certain if She Ra’s functions the same way,” Entrapta continued as she plucked the hilt up from the workbench, holding it aloft with a flock of her hair. The overhead lights—dim as they were—still caught on the fractured piece of First One’s tech that remained attached to the hilt. “There is reason to believe that if something were to happen to one of the runestones, then  _ bam _ ! The entire ecosystem of the planet would go haywire, the seasons would begin doing things they shouldn’t, and I can only assume that eventually, the planet would become uninhabitable.”

“You’ve seen this happen?” Hec-Tor asked.

Entrapta shook her head quickly. “No, thank the First Ones—” she said and her relief was evident by how her hair went completely lax. “I read about it, though. There were some… I hesitate to call them  _ stories _ , but there was an extensive collection of transliterated texts within the archives at Mystacor. Shadow Weaver told me not to ‘rummage around through her belongings’—” 

There was that motion again, curling two of her fingers on each hand in time with her words. Hec-Tor could only hope it wasn’t meant to be a vulgar gesture.

“—but they were very important to the research she wanted me to do!” Entrapta continued and an irritated ripple flowed through her hair from her scalp to the very tips. “Anyway, I found a story that detailed what I can only describe as an apocalypse. Someone had messed with one of the runestones and it caused the planet to go all screwy!”

Hec-Tor tilted his head. “What was the story?”

“Oh!” Entrapta said, settling on a shelf of her hair. “The Heart Blossom was leeching poison from the ground, causing it to slowly die off, somehow. This, in turn, caused crops to fail all across the planet, leading to food shortages and widespread famine. This wouldn’t make sense, since the soil everywhere else wouldn’t be poisoned!”

Although Hec-Tor very nearly pointed out that this was entirely conjecture, that it was a story and nothing more, he caught himself. If he said that, he would have sounded exactly like his brother. Prime had always been dismissive of the Vanishing Planet being anything more than a story meant to be told to fussy pups when they didn’t want to sleep. But the evidence of that story being real stood right in front of Hec-Tor’s very eyes.

The Guardian’s weapon, clutched in the hands of an inhabitant of the planet that wasn’t supposed to have existed in the first place.

Hec-Tor glanced at the sword’s hilt again, his ears flicking in confusion. “But… Entrapta, the sword was broken,” he said uncertainly, motioning to the hilt with a twitch of his ears. “Did it not cause to the planet to, ah… ‘go all screwy’ when it shattered?”

“Well,  _ something _ was happening when we emerged from Despondos, I just have no idea if it was related to the sword shattering or not…” she trailed off and let out a soft hum as she scratched the top of her head with a flock of hair. “If only your brother would let me speak to Adora—she’s here now, but I haven’t been allowed to talk to her.”

She must have been the girl with the golden hair then, Queen Glimmer’s guard.

“Were you not with Adora when the planet emerged?” Hec-Tor asked, although he realized it was a foolish question to ask after it had already left his mouth. If he had kept it all straight in his head, Entrapta worked for Shadow Weaver, who was near as he could tell, the sworn enemy of Bright Moon, which Queen Glimmer ruled, and Adora was loyal to her.

… Etherian politics gave him a headache.

Thankfully, Entrapta hadn’t noticed his foolish slip up. “Nope!” she said brightly. “I was underground!”

“… underground,” Hec-Tor repeated, his ears flicking uncertainly.

“Mmhmm! Shadow Weaver had me back at Dryl. I was supposed to make sure our mines were operational, since we’re the leading exporters of First One’s tech,” Entrapta explained. “So, I was down there, when… well, something began happening. It’s still unclear what exactly was going on, my data is rather inconclusive since I haven’t had an opportunity to interview any of the others about their experiences—”

“I’ll speak with my brother,” Hec-Tor promised. Surely Prime couldn’t say no to that, especially if it was important to their work with the sword and the Heart of Etheria.

Entrapta smiled warmly at him before continuing on with her story. “Anyway, normally the mines are pretty dark, right? Like, can’t see more than a couple of feet in front of your own face dark! But that day, all the crystals in the walls started glowing and I heard a faint humming sound, like when my computers are booting up. I didn’t know what it was, so I headed back up to the surface, and the sky had gone bright. These…  _ tendrils _ of multi-colored light were sweeping up to the sky from the earth. I don’t know what they were but…”

She trailed off and the rest of her sentence went unsaid, but Hec-Tor could piece it together. Given what she had said previously, he was certain she thought that all of this was related to the Heart of Etheria—she seemed particularly fixated on the connection between it and the runestones, and everything she had said before seemed to link the two. 

“But… if the Heart caused that…” Hec-Tor paused, feeling a shiver run up his spine. “Entrapta, is the weapon even safe to use?”

Her description had left him uneasy about the fate of the planet… and about the universe as a whole, too. If he couldn’t prove that the weapon was safe, he doubted Prime would be as eager to use it.

And for the first time since they had met, Entrapta was utterly sober—no melodic humming, no strangely Pyrian-sounding chirps. She glanced at him, worrying her lower lip between her teeth hard enough that Hec-Tor was worried she’d draw blood.

In the end, all she said was, “I don’t know.”

—

The hesitance that had been in Entrapta’s voice lingered with Hec-Tor for several hours after. He might not have known her for very long, but he couldn’t recall her ever sounding like that before. While Entrapta had recovered very quickly and they had been able to continue working, Hec-Tor just couldn’t shake her description of Etheria’s emergence from Despondos.

It was to the point that Hec-Tor couldn’t focus on much more than mindlessly watching Caduceus as he embroidered the hem of one of his casual dresses.

If Caduceus noticed, he didn’t say so, although his ears were tilted so that one had remained trained on Hec-Tor since they had arrived back at the Creche. His motions were controlled and methodical. Poke his needle through the backside of the fabric, carefully twist the silver embroidery thread around the needle several times—so quickly that Hec-Tor couldn’t even count how many times he had done so. The needle passed through the fabric again and Caduceus pulled it taunt on the other side before the motions repeated themselves again.

“… Caduceus?” Hec-Tor spoke up, his throat dry.

Caduceus didn’t respond immediately, repeating the same stitch three times more with startlingly quick efficiency. “What is it, Hec-Tor?” he asked, without looking up from his work.

“Do you think what Entrapta said might… might mean the Heart is dangerous?” Hec-Tor asked tentatively.

Sighing, Caduceus carefully paused in his stitching—but he didn’t remind Hec-Tor that his council was not required. Reaching up, he lightly rubbed his mottled ear tip between his fingers. “Based on what Princess Entrapta said…” he began, speaking slowly and carefully. “It is possible the  _ runestones _ are dangerous, if used improperly. We have no way of knowing if the planet unbalancing was the result of the sword shattering, but if it was, then it stands to reason that fixing the sword is important to maintaining that balance.”

“If the sword shattering was the cause of what she described in the first place,” Hec-Tor retorted, his ears flattening.

“… Hec-Tor, what is really bothering you?”

The question had been lingering on the tip of his tongue since they had returned from the sanctum. “If the Heart is dangerous, would Anillis still want to use it?”

Caduceus didn’t look at him, but his ears gave a decidedly uncomfortable twitch. “… I suppose it depends on  _ who _ it was dangerous  _ to _ …”

Hec-Tor throat went dry—but before he could say anything else, Caduceus went completely still. He released his hold on his mottled ear tip and rose from his seat before approaching the door. There, he pressed his hand against the door’s palm scanner, and the door slid open to reveal…

… well, objectively, Hec-Tor knew there was a person standing there—one of the Attendants, based on their uniform and height—but he was carrying three precariously stacked boxes that hid his body from the waist up. He stumbled into the room under the sheer weight of the boxes, and when he peeked around them to watch where he was going, Hec-Tor felt a flash of recognition.

This was the Archivist who had come to inform them that Prime would be returning soon. It would have been difficult to mistake him for anyone else—none of the Attendants looked as young as he did, and even now, he was displaying a tic. The tip of his tongue was poking out in concentration as he tried to keep the boxes from tipping out of his hands.

Hec-Tor even remembered his number—Six-Two-Six.

The boxes were set down heavily on the low table in the center of the Creche, and Hec-Tor’s tea cup—thankfully long since finished—clinked against its saucer. Six-Two-Six rose back to his full height and rubbed his forehead with the back of his bracer. The motion cause his hood to slip from his head. Beneath it, his crest was anything but neat and orderly… and unlike Caduceus, his masking was pristine. There was no mottling of blue running along the tip of his left ear.

Six-Two-Six let out a deep sigh, his exhaustion apparent, before he noticed Hec-Tor was sitting opposite of him, watching his every move. His entire posture stiffened again, the tips of his ears burning blue, and he nearly tipped over in his haste to sweep into a deep, respectful bow.

“That isn’t necessary,” Hec-Tor said quickly.

Although Six-Two-Six’s ears fluttered anxiously, and his posture was still stiff, he rose back to his full height again without fuss. A dusting of blue was slowly creeping down along the lines of his ears, making way to his cheeks. “… it—it is a honor to meet you again, Prince Hec-Tor.”

“Is this all of them?” Caduceus cut in as he walked around behind Six-Two-Six, peering at the boxes.

“No—well, yes—” Six-Two-Six began nervously…

… and he was remarkably emotive in his ears. They were tilting and turning every which way as he spoke, in a way that Caduceus’s never did. His ears were more controlled and direct in their emotive displays, likely because he was more guarded. Six-Two-Six seemed to be young enough he hadn’t developed that sort of emotional control yet. Hec-Tor had never had the opportunity to observe the ears of an Attendant before. They were always hidden away beneath their hoods. But Six-Two-Six hadn’t seemed to notice his hood was still down, so his ears were on display.

“ _ These _ —” An indication to the boxes with a decisive flick. “—are all the writings of…” Six-Two-Six trailed off and glanced at the side of one box, his ears giving a contemplative twitch at the tips. “Oh! Horde Prime Livia, the First of Her Name. According to the manifest, these were first properly digitized by her niece, Anillis the Second of Her Name, circa 145 Imperial Unification.”

If that was the case, it was little wonder the digitization had been so heavily degraded. That was nearly a millennium and a half ago.

“I will ensure that once they are returned to Vampyrus, they will be properly digitized again, Prince Hec-Tor,” Six-Two-Six continued.

“Thank you,” Hec-Tor said sincerely, although he didn’t know if he would be needing them again anytime soon after he was done here. Shifting forward in his seat, he checked the label on the side of the box. It was old—very old—so old that the label had yellowed from age and the ink had almost entirely faded away. But there was enough there to pick out the name  _ Livia I _ written across it, alongside a couple of other words that appeared to be written in Old Pyrian. Possibly some notes written by the hands of the Archivists who had originally filed the writings away. Hec-Tor didn’t actually speak Old Pyrian, so he couldn’t say for sure.

His ears twitched awkwardly when he realized that Six-Two-Six was still standing there, watching him. “Uh…”

“Do—Do you require assistance?” Six-Two-Six asked hopefully, clasping his hands together. “It would be an  _ honor _ to aid you in transliteration!”

Hec-Tor cast an uncertain glance in Caduceus’s direction—he had assumed that he would be having his Minder’s help with this.

“He would probably understand this all better than I do,” Caduceus admitted, giving a half-shrug. He didn’t appear to care one way or the other what Hec-Tor ended up deciding. “My conditioning didn’t prepare me for digging around through scraps of paper.”

“But mine did!” Six-Two-Six said, seeming very eager to begin.

Without another word, he stepped forward and lifted the top off of the first box. A thick cloud of dust rose with it which both Six-Two-Six and Caduceus breathed it in. Caduceus let out a harsh cough into his elbow as Six-Two-Six waved his hand through the air to dispel some of the dust.

“Do not breathe that in, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said, and there was a rasp to his voice that made him and Hec-Tor sound almost perfectly alike for once. “You’ll have coughing fits for the rest of the day.”

“It’s no trouble!” Six-Two-Six said, still chipper. He was already eagerly leafing through the papers at the top, his eyes alight. “I can sort through it for you!”

Hec-Tor almost argued—he had been excited to help sort through the papers himself—but a stern look from Caduceus was enough to make him bit his tongue. He remained where he sat on the edge of the sectional, while Six-Two-Six continued digging through the box and Caduceus settled with his embroidery again.

“… are all Archivists as cheerful as you?” Hec-Tor asked curiously. He couldn’t recall meeting any other Archivists besides Six-Two-Six. He so rarely used paper material for his research he had never had the opportunity to speak to one directly before, and he had never, to his memory, ever actually set foot in the Archives before.

Six-Two-Six paused to consider the question, several papers clutched in hand. “Any Archivist would be eager to serve you, Prince Hec-Tor,” he finally said, his gaze dropping back to the box.

Hec-Tor was accustomed to Attendants being eager to help. Six-Two-Six’s behavior was a complete departure from that. “How old are you?”

“I have been in service for a year,” Six-Two-Six stated, although it felt like a practiced response. His voice had gone stiff, his ears had flattened. It didn’t seem like a topic he wanted to continue.

So, Hec-Tor let the topic drop, and silence enveloped the Creche again—punctuated only by the sounds of a needle punching through fabric and thread being drawn through, intermingled with papers shuffling and the faint hum of the life support systems. Hec-Tor hated the silence when he didn’t have something to occupy himself with.

“… by the Light.”

The shuffling papers stopped, and Hec-Tor glanced up. Six-Two-Six was clutching a singular sheet in his hands, scrutinizing it, his ears tilted in confusion. Even Caduceus had looked away from his embroidery, pausing mid-stitch.

“Six-Two-Six, can I see?” Hec-Tor asked, holding out his hand for the paper—Six-Two-Six handed it over without argument. The texture was rough and brittle, the page yellowed with age, and it appeared as though some type of pest had managed to nibble along the edge. The ink, which had undoubtedly been a deep rich black when it had first been laid down, had gone brown and faded from the paper. It was barely legible, but Hec-Tor could see why the drawings there had caught Six-Two-Six's eye. The text on the page was ancient, but it was strangely familiar. Where had he seen those sweeping lines before…

“It looks like—” Six-Two-Six cut off when Hec-Tor’s gaze snapped back to his. His ears shifted back against the sides of his head.

“… looks like?” Hec-Tor prompted.

“Like—Like the ghost ship, your Highness,” Six-Two-Six said uncertainly. “The one they brought back from Etheria. The lines on the hull I mean!”

Caduceus gave a quiet scoff. “Ghost ship?”

The tips of Six-Two-Six’s ears dusted blue. “That is what the others call it,” he explained. “They say they’ve heard voices while investigating it… but nobody can tell where they’re coming from.”

Hec-Tor glanced at the faded lines on the paper again, realizing where he had seen them before. Running along the shattered blade of the Sword of Protection. Etched across the surface of that small piece of tech his brother had brought back for him. Here, though, it was easy to tell that the symbols had been strung together to form words. It wasn’t a language he recognized, but if it had been filed within the writings of Livia the First…

“… Six-Two-Six, what do you know of the Empire’s ascent?” Hec-Tor asked, carefully tracing one of the symbols beneath his finger. He had seen this one on the sword before, although he didn’t know what it meant.

“Just what was told to me while I was—” Six-Two-Six cut off and cleared his throat awkwardly. His ears had tilted uncertainly. “Just—Just what I was told, Prince Hec-Tor. How—How is that relevant here?”

Hec-Tor wasn’t entirely sure that it was, but he remembered from his history lessons growing up that Livia the First had been the Horde Prime who had first made contact with the Eternian Empire. These days, Eternians were a rarity, and there were only a few pocket populations that still existed across the universe. His brother had always been unconcerned with them, since the planets they lived on gave little and weren’t strategically placed.

It was a long way to fall for a once proud Empire.

“What if the ‘First Ones’ that the Etherian keep mentioning and the Eternians are one and the same?” Hec-Tor finally said.

Six-Two-Six frowned, not appearing convinced, but Caduceus’s ears had tilted and his eyes had widened a fraction.

“The Eternian Empire collapsed around a thousand years ago,” Hec-Tor pointed out, feeling giddy for the first time since his earlier meeting with Entrapta. “Which just so happens to line up with when the stories of the Vanishing Planet began surfacing amongst peoples living in nearby systems. What the disappearance of Etheria played a direct role in the collapse of the Eternian Empire?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: _from shadows_
> 
> the entire time i was editing this chapter, i was sending my plotting buddy snippets with six-two-six in them and they kept going "BABEY!!!" cause he's so cute uwu

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to drop a comment with your observations or theories about where the story is going to go! i love hearing thoughts on my writing and i always reply to those 💜💜
> 
> tumblr: [revasnaslan](https://revasnaslan.tumblr.com/) (much more active here, i frequently post teases for upcoming chapters and shitposts for this au in the tag "where one fell tag" on my blog)  
> twitter: [revasnaslan](https://twitter.com/revasnaslan) (less active here, but i do retweet a lot of hec-tor's baby pictures i mean photos of bats)


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